


Second Chances

by Xenobia



Series: Wyndrah [4]
Category: Wyndrah - Fandom
Genre: Action, Drama, F/M, Het, M/M, Mpreg, Original Fiction, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobia/pseuds/Xenobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicolas can't forget about Valamir.  Unable to stand the thought of leaving the gentle Elder trapped in his subservient life, the paladin arranges to travel to Nandar to rescue him.  Lyre, Aurora and Vurkanan discover his plans and set out with him to help.</p><p>Warnings: Graphic violence, graphic sex, explicit language, slash content, het content</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wyndrah and all associated characters are my intellectual property. I am sharing this series for free public viewing exclusive to Archive of our Own and Beyond the Ninth wave. Any unauthorized reposting of these literary works elsewhere is prohibited.

 

_Copyright © C.R. Bostic, 2004, 2014_

 

* * *

 

“Father, this order came in the mail today. A man in Driscal wants a shipment of our gunpowder.”

Lyre handed his father the false letter that he had devised, and he stepped back. He and Aurora waited with nervous impatience as Lythallendar scanned over the letter. They chose Driscal as the city because Lythas had been trading with people there since the time the business belonged to him and Coren. It was Aurora’s idea to say they wanted gunpowder, for they had plenty of barrels in stock, and there would be no delays in loading it onto the Swordfish.

Nearly two weeks had passed since their return from Nandar, and Vurkanan was certain that Nicolas was planning on leaving to try and take Valamir out of the Lashran city. It was very important that Lythas suspect nothing, because if he knew that his son and daughter intended to go with the paladin back to Nandar, he would have a fit.

“I see,” Lythas said, handing the note back to his son. “Very well…it is fortunate that he’s asking for powder. We can get the shipment to him quickly.” He smiled at them. “I’ll organize everything so that you can leave on the morrow, Aurora.”

“Tonight,” she blurted, drawing a frown from him. “I don’t see any reason to wait until tomorrow, Father. The sooner we can get this shipment taken care of, the sooner we can catch up and produce our other stock.”

Lyre hid his grin of approval at his sister’s smooth lie. The business was a bit behind, and the extra money would make manufacturing their weapons stock go all the more quickly. Always willing to listen to and respect his daughter’s opinion on these matters, Lythallendar nodded at Aurora.

“Very well, dear one. If you are that eager to set out tonight, far be it from me to stand in your way. I bow to your wisdom. Now, if the both of you will excuse me, I have a hot bath waiting for me-“

“Lyre, Vurkanan and Morgan want to come with me,” Aurora added as Lythallendar began to leave the loungeroom.

Lythas stopped and turned around with a puzzled look on his face. “Whatever for? Driscal is not that far, and the route to get there is the safest of all of them.”

Lyre spoke up. “Well, Vurkanan wants to see more of our country, and Morgan has a new magical concoction that he thinks might double the productivity of the engines. We might be able to get there in half the time.”

Lythas arched a raven brow and smirked. “Or he may blow up my ship trying it out.” He sighed, and he waved a hand in graceful dismissal. “I suppose there is no harm in it. I feel confident that I can leave the preparations to you two. Just be sure Morgan tests this mixture before actually trying it. I would rather not get news that you’ve all been exploded. And stay clear of Valkyrie Falls, until I know for certain that they didn’t identify us that evening. You could get arrested, otherwise.”

Lyre bowed slightly. “Of course, Father. Enjoy your bath.”

 

* * *

 

“Well…did he fall for it?” asked Vurkanan eagerly as Lyre and Aurora met he and Morgan at the docks.

“Aye,” Aurora replied, “Father’s such a trusting soul, and he’s too caught up in the excitement of being back home with a rugrat on the way to question us.”

Lyre frowned. “Are you sure this is the best way? I’ve never lied to Father before in my life. I feel bad.”

Vurkanan put his arms around the young sire’s waist and kissed him soundly. “Don’t worry, Lyre. We’re doing what’s best for Lythallendar, by not telling him. You know he would never let you go if he knew the truth, and it would cause needless stress to him.”

“Now the only question is whether Nick will show up or not,” said Morgan uneasily as he narrowed his eyes and searched for any sign of his brother. The sun was setting, and with the coming darkness, it was more difficult for him to distinguish people’s features from far away.

“Oh, he’ll be here. I’m positive of it,” Vurkanan said with all confidence. “In fact, I’m willing to wager on it. If he doesn’t show up, I will begin to wear more modest clothing, from here on out.”

They all stared at him, and he grinned. Vurkanan hadn’t dropped his dress habits upon coming to live with them, and he drew shocked looks from both men and women when he went out in public. Every bit of clothing he owned showed off his lithe, graceful body to highest advantage, yet somehow managed to be stylish, instead of vulgar.

“As if that’ll ever happen,” snorted Aurora, “but what the hell…you’re on.”

“I’ll be damned, there he is!” exclaimed Morgan with raised eyebrows.

They turned and followed his gaze, and sure enough, Nicolas Dewinter was walking towards the docking area, with bags slung over his shoulder. He pulled a wagon with a chest full of his belongings on it, as well. He hadn’t noticed them yet, and he was approaching another ship. He stopped and spoke to the man waiting at the boarding ramp, and they watched with interest as a mild argument began. Apparently, the knight was having trouble finding a ship that was willing to travel into Lashran waters…even in the pirate haven.

“Shall we greet our noble friend?” suggested Vurkanan.

The others agreed, and they made their way over to the next dock where Nicolas was still arguing with the captain of the large galleon. “Looking for transport?” asked Morgan as they approached.

Nicolas froze and turned around slowly. His dark brown eyes were puzzled as he stared at his brother and the others. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you always answer questions with questions?” returned Vurkanan with a crooked grin.

Nick shook his head in bafflement, then squared his shoulders and frowned at them. “If you’ve come to try and stop me, you’re wasting both your time and mine. I intend to do this, no matter who stands in my way.”

“Whoa…calm down there, big guy,” said Aurora, “If you weren’t so blinded by your hormones, you’d have noticed we’ve got the Swordfish ready to go. We’re coming with you.”

Nicolas crossed dropped his bags to the docks and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you, now? Do you even know where I’m going?”

“Of course we do,” snapped Morgan, “a blind, drunken idiot could see that the only place on your agenda is Nandar. Did you think you could fool all of us into believing you’re completely over him?”

Nick sighed and closed his eyes. “I truly appreciate your support, but it will be very dangerous. I can’t allow you all to get mixed up in my troubles.”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “There you go again, mistaking us for people who give a damn whether it’s dangerous or not. We’re not letting you leave without us, Nick.”

“And we outnumber you,” added Vurkanan.

“I don’t want to fight you, but if I must knock some sense into your head to make you see you stand a better chance with us along, I will,” said Lyre with a forbidding look in his green eyes.

Nicolas threw his arms up in exasperation. “Why? Why do you all wish to come along? You’ve got a good life here with each other! I am the only one who has nothing to lose by trying this!”

Morgan shook his head. “You’re wrong, Nick. I’ve got a brother to lose. If I sat back and did nothing while you sailed away into danger, I’d never forgive myself.”

“We’re your friends, Nicolas,” said Lyre softly, placing a hand on the knight’s shoulder, “and we are fond of Valamir, as well. We would not be offering our help, if we didn’t think you were doing the right thing by going after him. Any one of us might do the same thing, in your situation.”

Nicolas opened his eyes again and gazed at them all in indecision. “Are you certain that you wish to come with me? I can’t guarantee that we’ll make it back home alive.”

Morgan nodded. “We know that. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re coming with you. I really believe we can pull this off, if we all work together.”

Nick smiled hesitantly. “Then if you’re all so determined, I suppose I can’t stop you. You have my gratitude.”

 

* * *

 

They told the crew that they were retrieving some things from Nandar that had been left behind. Aurora warned them that there might be some fighting, so that they would be prepared. None of the men seemed particularly bothered by this. They were pirates, after all…a tough bunch, too.

“You should get some rest,” said Morgan to his brother as the knight stared unblinkingly out to sea, “it will take us around a week to get there, so there’s no point in you watching the horizon for signs of land.”

Nicolas shrugged. “I’m too restless to get some sleep, just yet. I’ll wind down, soon enough.”

He glanced over at Aurora, who was doing her rounds to make sure all was going smoothly. The young woman was far enough away not to hear him as he spoke again in a softer voice. “So, I’ve finally admitted my love. When will you, Morgan?”

The sorcerer blushed. “I’m sure she knows how I feel about her. I don’t want to pressure her, that’s all.”

“You know, there is such a thing as taking it _too_ slow,” commented Nicolas seriously as he turned back to Morgan. “Perhaps if I had been more assertive with my feelings, Valamir would have left with us when he had the chance to. If I had admitted to myself and to him just how strongly I felt, I’m sure that he would have agreed to leave. I would have found a way to get him back onto the ship with us before we left Lashran waters. That opportunity has passed, and now I’ve put us all in more danger by traveling back to retrieve him. Don’t let your chances pass you by, Morgan. You never know what might happen, or what could have been, if you wait too long.”

Then the paladin bowed to his brother and walked away, leaving Morgan to ponder his advice. Against his will, Morgan’s gaze slid across the deck to settle on Aurora. Her beauty took his breath away, and her strength of will and fearlessness awed him. He had never met a woman like her, and he doubted he ever would again, in his lifetime. That she wasn’t human, and indeed, not quite Lashran, but an entire new breed of species didn’t bother him in the slightest. No name that anyone could give her would change the way he felt.

“Nicolas, you can be really wise, sometimes,” the sorcerer whispered aloud.

 

* * *

 

Valamir sensed that Bakarus was up to something, but he hadn’t decided just what it was. His ominous statement that Lythallendar and the others would soon be back in Nandar kept worrying Valamir. The Elder Lifebearer was at odds with himself as he tried to decide what, if anything, he should do. Spying on Bakarus would be exceedingly difficult, not to mention foolish. If Bakarus discovered him spying, all sorts of questions would be raised that Valamir wasn’t prepared to answer. How could he explain to his mate that he didn’t trust him? He couldn’t…it simply would not make a difference, and would only serve to anger Bakarus.

He walked the hallways of the home he shared with his mate and stroked his swollen belly in thought. He did not want to be disrespectful to Bakarus, but he was truly worried. Lythallendar and the others deserved to be left in piece…what if the Head Elder had some sort of trick planned to get them back?

Valamir’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Bakarus’ voice, coming from around the corner. The Lifebearer froze and cocked his head to one side, listening carefully. Bakarus was speaking to someone…and they were talking about Lythallendar. Valamir bit his lip and agonized over whether he should make his presence known to his mate. Why should Bakarus feel the need to hide anything from him in the first place?

What he heard next made his heart skip a beat, and he decided not to let Bakarus know he was there. “Gather your crew, then. I expect for you to have Lythallendar and Lyre in your custody, when you return. If you can get Tsabrak and Vurkanan as well, that is wonderful…but the hybrids are your primary focus. I have already stocked your ship and will provide you with sedatives, if you must drug them to keep them docile. It is important to our people that we have these half breeds under our control, for we do not know what gifts, or what weaknesses their offspring might bring.”

Valamir hardly heard the other Sire’s response. He quickly went back the way he came, his heart pounding. So, Bakarus had no intention of leaving Lythallendar and his son alone. Valamir wasn’t surprised, but anger rose within him, regardless. How hypocritical of Bakarus, to speak so disdainfully of humans for kidnapping Valamir, and then turn around and plan to do the same thing! Once he was safely in their bedroom, Valamir sank onto the bed and racked his brain for a solution. He knew that he must somehow get warning to Lythallendar and Tsabrak, but he didn’t know how he was going to accomplish this. He considered every Lashran that he knew, trying to think of one of the Sires that might be willing to travel to Avras and find the city that Lythallendar lived in.

Only one Lashran sprung to mind that would possibly be sympathetic to his plight. Demadas was Tsabrak’s old friend. Perhaps, if Valamir met up with him and explained the danger that his friend was in, Demadas might be willing to join the crew that Bakarus was sending and try to get word to Tsabrak before the others found him. Determined not to let his mate spoil the lives of people that he considered friends, Valamir squared his shoulders and resolved to find Demadas.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think they’ll attack?” Lyre asked Aurora as the siblings stared out over the waters. It was their second day at sea, and they crossed paths with another pirate ship. It was a large Galleon, and it looked quite capable of doing some serious damage to their little vessel. The fog had obscured the other ship, and so when they spotted it, it was too late to drop an invisibility illusion over the Swordfish.

Aurora shrugged. “Who knows? I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Don’t worry, the cannon crew is ready and waiting to fire on them, if it comes to it.”

Morgan shared Lyre’s discomfort as the large ship continued to come closer…and did not lower their signet flag or raise a white flag. “I don’t think they want to talk,” the sorcerer said grimly.

“We will give them a few moments to declare their intentions,” said Nicolas firmly, “They could be coming closer so that they can shout out to us.”

“Or they could be coming closer to shoot at us,” remarked Vurkanan with a smirk. He quieted when the paladin gave him a glare.

The crew waited in tense silence for Aurora to give an order. The young woman pursed her lips and tried to be patient. The other ship wasn’t close enough to be able to hit them, if they did choose to fire on them. Not yet, anyway. Her eyes widened in surprise and her lips formed an “O” as the familiar sound of a cannon firing broke the silence. “Ah, hell!” she growled as the shot landed a few yards in front of the Swordfish. It was a warning shot. Due to the fact that the other ship was still advancing, she was sure it wasn’t simply a message to back off…they intended to board them.

“I take it they expect us to surrender?” Nicolas questioned with a raised eyebrow. He was the very picture of calm.

“Fuck that,” Aurora said angrily. She raised her arm, then let it fall down in a slashing motion. “Blow them out of the water!” she screamed.

Vurkanan grit his teeth and plugged his ears as the Swordfish’s cannons were prepared. He hated the artificial explosions. It sounded too much like thunder, to his liking. The deck shook as the weapons fired.

Nicolas’ jaw dropped at the display of power. Not even when he first laid eyes on Valamir did his face show so much shock. With perfect aim and synchronization, five shots exploded from the Swordfish to ram into the enemy ship. The sound of splintering wood and screaming men reached the Paladin’s ears as half of the pirate ship was reduced to driftwood. “Hold!” ordered Aurora. She signaled to one of the crewmen, who nodded and raced to the pilot chambers.

“What are we doing now?” asked Lyre in confusion as the Swordfish turned and moved to the crippled ship.

“Taking whatever booty might be on board,” answered Aurora simply.

“Er…what about the occupants?” questioned Morgan. “Or, what’s left of them.”

Aurora shrugged. “Once we finish taking payment for letting them live, they can take their sorry ship to a port somewhere for repairs. I don’t give a pig’s fart what they do, to be honest with you. They started this.”

The sorcerer stared at her warily. She was a good deal more lethal and ruthless than he thought, though he was relieved that she wasn’t going to take prisoners or sink the ship. Damn it all, the pirate life suited Aurora. He was forced to admit it.

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe how fast that was taken care of,” Lyre commented after they took what they wanted from the pirate ship and watched the vessel slowly sail away.

“I cannot believe I was involved in theft,” Nicolas said sourly.

Aurora frowned at the knight. “What the hell are you blabbering about? They were pirates, in case you forgot. They planned on doing the same thing to us!”

“That doesn’t excuse doing it to them,” he said stubbornly.

“Oh, for the love of…look you, I’m willing to place a sizeable wager on a bet that everything on board that boat was stolen from some rich merchant. If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll find out who they belonged to originally and return the goods, like good little children.”

The others watched uncomfortably as Nicolas and Aurora glared at each other. Lyre groaned inwardly…he knew there would eventually be some trouble between those two. They had never been able to get along with each other for very long.

“You know as well as I that we have no way of finding out who those goods belong to…your attack on the pirate ship killed the captain, who was the only one who knew where the shipment came from!” Nicolas ranted.

Aurora threw her hands up. “Then, why are you riding my arse?! Dammit, Nick…I’ll make a deal with you. If it will stop your bitching, we’ll donate the goods to a charity of your choice, once we return to Tariff with Valamir.”

Nicolas snapped his mouth shut. He really couldn’t think of an argument to that. It was actually more than he expected from the woman. “Yes, that will make me feel better,” he finally mumbled.

“Good! Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s an ale below deck with my name on it,” Aurora said crossly, “Coming, Morgan?”

Taken aback by her spontaneous invitation (or, command was more like it), Morgan nodded dumbly and followed her.

Nicolas watched them leave, and he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I’ll never understand that girl,” he said.

“I’m surprised the two of you didn’t get into a fistfight,” commented Lyre.

“I would have enjoyed watching that,” Vurkanan said with a laugh. He pinched his lips and went silent as Nick glared at him.

“I must admit, she has gotten better at compromising,” Nicolas said with a sigh, “a few years ago, she would have simply told me to sod off. Perhaps Aurora is finally maturing in more than body.”

Lyre nodded. “She’s been forced to take on more responsibilities lately. I think she really began to change during the time that we were prisoners in Nandar. It must have been hard on her, worrying over us every day.”

Nicolas narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Aye…I didn’t think of that. She was determined to get you all safely back on the ship…even Tsabrak. I must admit that she’s quite clever, and I wouldn’t want to be on her hate list. She and I may argue, but I think of her as a sister, and I’m sure she feels the same towards me. I feel pity for those who become her enemy.”

Vurkanan gave a low whistle. “Oh, I’d love to see what she would do to Bakarus, if she ever got her hands on him. He might have sentenced those filthy Sires who…harassed me, but I truly despise him.”

Lyre put his arm around Vurkanan and nodded in agreement. “That is one fight that I would like to see. Aurora would take old Bakarus down in no time.”

All three of them shared a chuckle at the thought. One thing they could agree on was their dislike of the Head Elder. For Bakarus’ sake, Lyre hoped he didn’t interfere with their plans. Hell, even if the Head Elder happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, Aurora was likely to rip a new orifice for him if she saw him.

 

* * *

 

“Has anyone even come up with some sort of plan for when we get there?” asked Morgan as he sat down at the table.

Aurora filled two mugs with ale and recklessly slid one of them across the table to the sorcerer. He barely caught it before it skittered over the edge, and she grinned at him. “Well, Nick and I think going in during nightfall is essential. I’m leaving the business of concealing the ship from Lashran detection to you and Vurk.”

Morgan lifted his mug to his lips and took a deep swallow. She sat across from him and did the same, giving a sigh of satisfaction and wiping foam from her mouth. Morgan couldn’t help but smile…it wasn’t a very graceful gesture on her part, but it was really endearing. Aurora paused with her hand still near her mouth. “What are you grinning about?”

He shrugged and looked into his own mug. He wished he could tell her how he felt. “You think it’s funny, the way I drink?” she said with a smirk. She was teasing him, he was sure. He would know if she was really angry.

“No…I think it’s cute,” he gathered the courage to say. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, for Aurora actually _blushed_ at the compliment. He had never seen her blush before!

“Cute,” she snorted, “kittens are cute.” Then she drank deeply from her mug again.

Her eyes widened slightly as he suddenly stood up and moved around the table. “What are you doing?” she sputtered.

He didn’t answer. He took a deep breath and took the mug out of her hands, setting it aside. She started to protest, but then his mouth descended to hers. His lips were warm and gentle against hers, and they sent tingles through her body. Without meaning to, she returned the pressure of his lips and slid her fingers through his hair. Encouraged, he ran his tongue along the part in her lips, and when they opened further, he slipped it in and explored her mouth. Aurora slowly rose, and her arms went around his waist.

With rising passion, Morgan pulled her tight against him and groaned softly at the press of curves against his body. His broke the kiss gently so that he could trail his lips along the smooth skin of her jaw and neck. Aurora tilted her head back and sighed as his warm mouth caressed her throat, and his hands settled on her hips. That odd pressure was back between her legs, and it grew stronger as his erection pressed against her hip. “Morgan,” she said huskily, but she didn’t know what she wanted.

His mouth pressed harder against her flesh in response, and he cupped her buttocks and pushed her more firmly against his stiffness. Her hands pulled the V in his robes open further so that she could touch his chest. She wondered what he wore beneath them. She knew he wore breeches, but what about underwear? The desire to touch that hard bulge below his waist was becoming too strong to ignore.

Morgan’s breath rushed out of him with a little sound of surprise when Aurora’s hand cupped his genitals and began to press and squeeze. He rested his cheek on her shoulder and bit his lip in pleasure as she explored the bulging area. He trembled and tried not to make any sudden moves, afraid of spooking her. Unlike the time she had gone into her seasonals, her touch was hesitant and curious. This time, she wasn’t being pushed by primal hunger, and she was carefully touching him in an almost questioning manner. “It’s alright, ‘Rora,” he breathed, gently covering her hand with his and guiding her movements, “it won’t hurt you.”

She wanted to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but she gulped instead. His assurance that his manhood was nothing to be afraid of wasn’t truly silly at all. That his larger hand was settled over hers encouragingly made her bolder, and she began to unbutton his robes with her other hand. She looked up at him questioningly, wondering if she was being too bold. “I think,” he said huskily, “that we should go to my cabin to do this. Someone could walk in.”

A thrill of both fear and excitement went through her. What exactly were they going to do? “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she warned, “this doesn’t mean that we’re going to have sex.”

He smiled tenderly at her. Ye gods, he was cute! “I know, sweetheart. I wouldn’t ask you to, but you seem to be interested in a little exploration.”

She blushed from head to toe, but nodded. She was too curious and aroused to stop just yet, and she did want to see what his penis looked like. Lythas had explained sex to her at an early age, and he had even shown her drawings of a man’s body, but she had never seen a naked man in the flesh before. She reluctantly took her hand off of Morgan’s bulge and twined her fingers into his, and he guided her down the hall to where his cabin was.

Neither of them saw Vurkanan pressed tightly against the side of the other doorway. He had come down to join them for ale, but stopped when he saw them locked in a kissing embrace. Caught between not wanting to embarrass them and wanting to see what would happen, the young Lifebearer hid as well as he could and waited. As they walked off, he grinned. “It’s about time,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

This was a mistake. Aurora thought about bolting passed Morgan as he shut the door behind him. Then she looked at his face, and her desire rose again. The way he was looking at her made her feel adored and worshipped. Morgan would never hurt her, and he said that he understood that she wasn’t ready to go the final lap. Gathering her courage, she went to him and kissed him. He embraced her and returned the kiss, his hands stroking her back.

Morgan was careful to allow her to take the initiative. He didn’t touch her anywhere that might startle her, but instead ran his hands down her back and shoulders in a soothing glide. He could sense the fear that was deep within her, even if she would never admit it. That she was willing to even do this with him came as a shock. He held himself still as her fingers unbuttoned his robe, and he helped her remove it when it was opened up.

Once he stood before her in only his breeches and boots, she stepped back slightly and looked at him. His physique was more defined than she would have thought. Not that he was bulging with muscles, but his chest and abdomen were well toned and quite appealing. A light smattering of sable hair decorated his chest and ran in a soft line down his torso to his belly button. She swallowed when her eyes followed that line and rested on the bulge in his trousers…which seemed more prominent than before.

Carefully, as if she was afraid she would be burned, she laid her palms on his chest and ran them down his body. Morgan stared down at her with half-lidded hazel eyes. His lips were parted slightly, and his hand stroked her raven hair softly. She kissed the warm skin of his chest, tasting his flesh with her tongue, and he sighed. Encouraged, she let her hands slide down to the strings of his breeches, and she began to unlace them. He trembled and held himself still as she finished with that and tugged the breeches down over his hips, freeing his stiffened manhood.

Aurora stared at the organ in fascination. It seemed to have a life of its own, for as she watched, it seemed to flex the tiniest bit, moving slightly. Enthralled, she reached out and petted it with her fingertips. It seemed to like it, for it throbbed and practically arched against her encouragingly. Morgan hissed between his teeth and closed his eyes as she grew bolder and gripped his cock.

Aurora gave a little start at the sound, because for a moment, she completely forgot that the penis had a man attached to it. “Did that hurt?” she whispered, thinking that she had squeezed too hard.

Morgan shook his head, but couldn’t seem to find the ability to speak. She grinned, realizing she was making him feel too good to be able to talk. She lowered her other hand to lavish attention on the organ that she petted. It bucked wantonly with pleasure as she circled the flushed, heart-shaped cap with her fingertips, and Morgan gave a little gasp. A bead of clear liquid formed over the tiny hole in the center of it, and she ran her finger over it and found it to be quite slick. She gave the length of the warm, throbbing shaft a pull with her hand, then repeated the action when Morgan moaned and panted her name.

“It’s pretty,” she said honestly, kissing his parted lips lingeringly. His breath was coming harder and faster by the minute as she continued to squeeze, push and pull his engorged manhood. She watched his facial expressions tense up, and she started to believe she truly was causing him pain, for he couldn’t stop the little grunts that escaped his lips as she rubbed his erection. “I’ll stop if it’s hurting you,” she said.

Morgan shook his head vehemently and gasped, “No…it doesn’t hurt. Gods…don’t stop, Aurora…please don’t stop!” A light sheen of sweat had broken out across his skin, making it glow in the lamplight, and he was thrusting his hips and pushing his manhood in and out of her gripping hand in an almost desperate rhythm.

“Okay, love…easy there,” she purred, enjoying the power she had over him immensely. On a guess, she increased the speed and friction of her strokes. Morgan cried out hoarsely and his fingertips dug into her shoulders.

“There you go, darling…you like that, don’t you?” she was slightly shocked by the almost growling sound of her voice and the way her own loins were moist and aching. He kissed her hard, his breath now erratic and harsh. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and started to moan hoarsely with each breath. She could feel his sex becoming as hard as rock in her hand, and the satiny skin of it was tightening. She looked down and watched the organ buck in her grasp, and she made a quiet exclamation of surprise when it squirted thick, milky liquid in a rhythmic spasm. She didn’t mind that it got all over her hand and arm…it didn’t even bother her that some of it spurted onto her breeches. So, that was what a man’s “seed” looked like. Why didn’t they call it “milk” instead?

Morgan was shaking all over and panting heavily. His skin was feverish against hers, and when he pulled his head off of her shoulder and looked down at her, she was taken aback by how handsome he looked in the afterglow of pleasure. “That was the most intense encounter I’ve ever had,” he said truthfully, still breathing heavily. Then he kissed her passionately and hugged her to him tightly. He gave a little shudder of pleasure, for her hand was still gently gripping his softening penis and massaging it. “Looks like you’ve found a new friend,” he commented breathlessly. She laughed, but didn’t seem the least bit ashamed.

 

* * *

 

“Lyre, tell me if I’m imagining things,” Nicolas said as he beaconed the Sire to join him at the rail, “I’m still not familiar with lashran workmanship, but I could swear that’s one of their ships to the South, there.”

Lyre quickly came to his side and took the spyglass he offered. Putting it to his eye, he swore as the unmistakable craftsmanship of the ship left no doubt. “What the hell are they doing heading this way? Could they know about what we’re planning to do?” he wondered aloud.

“I don’t think they’ve spotted us yet,” replied Nicolas grimly, “either that, or they don’t recognize the Swordfish.”

Lyre nodded. “Yes…we’ve got time to camouflage before they see us, if I can find Vurk or Morgan fast enough. I’ll try to be fast.” With that said, he ran to the hatch leading below deck, hoping that they would be in the mess hall drinking ale. He nearly ran over his lover, for Vurkanan was just ascending the stairs leading to the upper deck.

“What is wrong?” questioned the lifebearer when he saw the look on Lyre’s face.

“There’s a lashran galleon to the south of us. Nick doesn’t think they’ve seen us yet, so I need you to make us invisible.”

Vurkanan didn’t argue. He came up on the deck and began a soft, ululating chant, moving his graceful body in time with it. Nicolas watched with interest as a transparent bubble surrounded the entire ship. He could see clearly through the barrier, as if looking through a glass pane. “Is that it?” he questioned.

Vurkanan began to collapse, and Lyre quickly lifted him into his arms. The lifebearer nodded and rested his head on his lover’s shoulder as Lyre stroked his silver hair. “To them, we are merely a part of the horizon, now. I would like to work a divination to find out what they are doing so far out of Lashran waters, however. I’m worried that they might have come searching for us, to stop us from even reaching Nandar’s coast.”

Nicolas frowned. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. From what you’ve told me, if they’re truly searching for us, they’d sense you spying on them. That was half the reason getting you all out of there was so difficult, because you and Tsabrak could not work your magic without them knowing it.”

Vurkanan’s face fell. “True. They wouldn’t have sensed my obscuring, for it wasn’t directed at them, but I’m afraid you are right about the divination. Morgan should do it. They might sense him, but due to the fact that he’d be using human magick, they wouldn’t be able to track him or retaliate.”

“Where is he? I shall go and fetch him.”

Vurkanan smirked. “He’s in his cabin…but you’d better knock, before trying to go in.”

 

* * *

 

It was a good thing for Morgan and Aurora—and probably Nicolas as well—that the knight chose to take Vurkanan’s advice and knock before entering his brother’s cabin. The slightly breathless and shaken quality of Morgan’s voice when he said, “One moment!” left little doubt in Nick’s mind that he and Aurora had been doing something he’d rather not think about.

When Morgan opened the door, Nicolas quickly took notice that his hair was mussed and his robes were in disarray. Nicolas cleared his throat and tried not to call attention to it. “We’ve spotted a Lashran vessel to the North. Vurkanan thinks that you should work a divining and try to discover what they’re doing so close to Avras. He’s afraid that he’ll give us away, if he tries it.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. I’ll start right away,” the Bargel replied. He turned an apologetic gaze to Aurora, who was standing behind him with slightly flushed cheeks. “’Rora, I’m sorry, but I need privacy to do this…would you mind joining my brother and the others on the upper deck, please?”

Just as formally, and not at all like herself, the young woman nodded. “Of course, Morgan.” As she walked past him, she muttered, “watch your ass. These lashran can be tricky.”

Once they were gone, he closed the door and sank to the floor with his ankles crossed. He forcefully banished the images of what he and Aurora had done a few moments ago, and he closed his eyes and murmured a soft incantation. Going into the divination trance was surprisingly easy…he assumed that it had something to do with how relaxed he was after the release he had experienced.

Morgan frowned as he encountered resistance from the other ship. He wasn’t surprised that they had a magic user on board, or that there was a barrier. He carefully probed for weaknesses, and a smile flitted across his lips. The other sorcerer was strong, but he wasn’t adept at creating wards. Morgan gave a shove and penetrated the barrier, then began to reach out with his senses to locate the person in charge of the expedition. The captain was a tall sire with steel-gray hair. Morgan groaned inwardly as he tried to read the lashran’s thoughts. He was a disciplined sire…strict and unbending. The captain seemed to sense that someone was trying to Work on him, for he frowned and looked around him.

Sweat broke out on Morgan’s face as he struggled to wean some sort of information from the lashran’s guarded thoughts. Another lashran entered the cabin, and Morgan swore. It was their sorcerer. The golden-haired lifebearer narrowed his blue eyes and said something, but Morgan could not hear his words. Guessing that the magic user was warning his captain that someone was divining them, Morgan pulled back and ended the trance. He felt himself shaking from the effort of trying to read the man. He gave himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he dragged himself to his feet and headed up to tell the others what little he had learned.

 

* * *

 

“Well?” Nicolas said expectantly, the moment Morgan approached.

The Bargel blew a sigh. “I’m sorry, but the fellow in charge was very hard to read. He’s one of those individuals who seems to have a natural resistance to magical manipulation. All I could ascertain was that they’re heading to Avras to get something…or someone. I got the feeling from him that it was pretty important. It could be a trade shipment.”

Nicolas frowned. “Or it might not. The lashran haven’t changed their position on trading with humans. Why would they make an exception now? Did you try reading any of the other crewmembers on board?”

Morgan shook his head. “I didn’t get the chance to. They’ve got a sorcerer on that ship, and he came into the captain’s quarters and sensed my presence. I had to break my trance, or risk discovery or possibly being trapped. Sorcerers can sometimes capture the minds of other sorcerers who are trying to spy on them. I don’t know if this fellow is powerful enough to do that, but I didn’t want to take the risk and jeopardize our mission.”

Lyre carefully set Vurkanan on his feet, keeping his arm around the lifebearer’s waist until he was sure he could stand on his own. “I can’t help but feel that something is wrong about all of this,” he said, scratching his chin with his free hand, “what could be so important that they would break their policies about associating with humans?”

Vurkanan thought about this for a moment. “Well, there are certain plants that only grow on Avras. We’ve tried to cultivate some of them before, but they can’t thrive in the tropical climate of Nandar. There are also precious gems and metals that don’t exist in Nandar as well. In the past, we traded our indigenous resources for theirs. Perhaps the demand was too high for the Council to ignore, and they’ve swallowed their pride and decided to allow trades for special cases like that.”

Lyre noticed the hopeful expression on his lover’s face, and he said, “but you don’t think so, do you Vurk?”

The lifebearer grimaced. “No…I think it would take more than a few trinkets and some mind-altering herbs to make the Council budge an inch on their ruling.”

“So what the blazes are they doing, then?” growled Nicolas.

Aurora shrugged. “Could be pirates. Maybe this lot is going behind the Council’s back. I can imagine how much they could jack up the prices of some of the things Vurk mentioned, considering that when they return, they’ll be the only ones that have a full supply. That’s only speculation, though.”

Vurkanan grinned. “That may actually be the case, now that I think of it. I remember how angry a lot of people were when the Council passed the new law. Quite a few merchants went out of business, for they specialized in imported goods.” He relaxed against Lyre, accepting Aurora’s suggestion to be the most logical possibility. It certainly made more sense than the horrible suspicions that had been going through his mind.

He remembered how Bakarus had looked at him and the others as they left Nandar with Nicolas. The Elder seemed quite obsessed with keeping Lyre and Lythallendar under observation, and Vurkanan had feared that no amount of negotiating would free them. When Lyre told him that there was a lashran ship heading towards human controlled waters, his first immediate fear was that they had somehow discovered what Nicolas was up to and were coming after them. His second was that they were on a mission to capture the two hybrids.

“Yes…that must be it,” he said with more confidence. Even with the determination the Council had shown to keep them in Vartros, Vurkanan wondered why they would take such drastic measures to have two hybrids in their control. If they had proof that the mixing of human and lashran blood produced enhanced abilities, it might have seemed more logical. As it was, the Council was still running on theories…which was the primary reason they wanted to observe Lythallendar and his son.

It still boggled Vurkanan’s mind that his people could have such double standards. How can one decree a race of people to be inferior and not worthy of interaction, yet at the same time wish to experiment to see what results they could get from a mixed pairing? Sometimes, he didn’t understand his own people anymore than he understood humans.

 

* * *

 

 Morgan swore as he was awoken by someone pounding on his cabin door. “Give me a moment, will you?” he snapped as he dragged himself out of bed and yanked his robe on. He was considerably startled when he opened the door to find Aurora standing there, with tears running down her pale cheeks. “’Rora…what’s the matter?” he asked in alarm.

“Do you still have the connection with Tsabrak that you had while they were prisoners in Nandar?” she said as she entered the cabin.

It took his sleep-clouded mind a moment to comprehend what she meant. “Do you mean, can I still contact him telepathically?” When she nodded, he said, “Of course. Once two magic users have linked in a Working, the bond remains for years. Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

She bit her lip and twisted a lock of raven hair round and round in a nervous gesture. “I had a nightmare. I know how bloody stupid this sounds, but I’m afraid for Father. I never have nightmares, but I’ve been having them all night long. It’s probably nothing…I don’t have any special talents with foresight or magic, but when I have a dream that damn near makes me piss my pants, I can’t just leave it alone!”

Hearing the rising note of anxiety in her voice, he hugged her tightly and shushed her as he rubbed her back. “Shhh…it’s all right, ‘Rora. I’ll contact Tsabrak and ask how Lythas is doing. What do you want me to say? They think we’re making a delivery, after all.”

“I don’t care what you say. Just don’t let on what we’re really doing and make sure everything’s all right. I won’t be able to sleep until I know, Morgan.”

He nodded and guided her to the bed, then sat on the stool in the corner of the cabin. Morgan equalized his breathing and concentrated on Tsabrak. When he contacted the Sire, Tsabrak was irritated at being woken up, but when he realized that it was Morgan, his irritation became worry.

“Is everything alright, lad?” Tsabrak asked.

“Yes sir, everything is fine with us. I’m sorry for intruding on you like this, but Aurora wanted me to check in on you and Lythas. She’s had a really bad nightmare that gave her quite a scare, and she came to me in tears.”

Tsabrak’s thoughts chuckled softly before he answered, “Everything is just fine here, Morgan. The only problems that Lythas has had have been morning sickness and attempting to sneak too much spinach and broccoli behind my back. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said he craves greens!”

Morgan smiled and gave Aurora a nod to indicate that all was well. “That’s a relief to hear, sir. When someone like ‘Rora is that troubled over a dream, it bothers me more than I care to admit.”

“What sort of nightmare was it? Was Lythas dead?” Tsabrak wanted to know.

Morgan asked her, and she grimaced. “It’s pretty fuzzy. All I can remember is that someone was after him.”

Slightly chilled by this, the Bargel conveyed the message to Tsabrak. The sire was quiet for a moment, and then he said in a firm voice, “I can see how that would bother the lass. After what we’ve all been through, it’s no wonder she’s having nightmares about someone stalking him. You tell her for me that Lythas and I know where each other are at all times, and he is never alone. He always takes a pistol and his whip with him, when he leaves the house, and I never go anywhere without my weapons. I promise, nobody so much as blinks at Lythallendar without my knowing it. I’d appreciate it if you do not tell him that when you return, however. He might not take too kindly to my overprotective instincts, and he doesn’t know that I pay some of the lads that work for us extra to keep a close eye on him, when I can’t.”

Morgan grinned and nodded. “I’ll tell her. Again, I’m sorry for waking you up. I wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t so upset.”

Tsabrak laughed. “Think nothing of it, Morgan. I can’t say that I wouldn’t be a fair bit alarmed myself, if I saw Aurora that troubled by something. She takes after her sire, for certain, and it’s a rare thing to see the lass cry. I shall tell Lythas that she and Lyre send their love, but I won’t mention that she had nightmares about him.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

Aurora released her breath in a sigh of relief as Morgan turned to her. It was clear by the smile he gave that everything was all right. “What did he say?” she asked anyway.

“He said that Lythas is doing quite well, with the exception of the usual morning sickness. He also said he’s caught him trying to sneak extra greens behind his back.”

Aurora burst into hardy laughter at this news. “That’s Father for you,” she said as she wiped her eyes, “he’s like a child, sometimes. I don’t suppose he’ll ever completely outgrow that innocence of his.”

Morgan stood up and paused indecisively. He wanted Aurora to stay, yet he didn’t want to give her the impression that he was trying to seduce her. He wasn’t foolish enough to allow the brief glimpse of vulnerability he had seen trick him into saying something reckless. He cleared his throat and said, “do you want me to escort you back to your cabin, or would you rather stay here and talk for a while? I’m here for you, if you need comfort.”

She lowered her gaze in thought. No, she didn’t want to go back to her cabin, but if she asked to sleep with him, he might get the wrong idea and assume they would make love. She still wasn’t ready for that…especially because of where they were going and what they were doing. There was no guarantee that she wouldn’t get pregnant if they took the final step…even if she drank Vurkanan’s contraceptive potion. Her body was so bloody different from everyone else’s, both human and lashran, that she wasn’t sure what would work for her and what wouldn’t!

Finally, she raised her sea-foam gaze and whispered, “I don’t want to have the nightmares again, Morgan. This is going to sound childish, but can I just…sleep in here with you tonight, and just hold you?” Before he could answer, she quickly added, “That doesn’t mean I want to have sex, you know. I simply don’t want to be alone, tonight.”

He gave a mock sigh. “Botheration…I was hoping to get lucky, too. You do know I would absolutely despise holding you, don’t you?”

When her jaw dropped and her eyes narrowed angrily, he laughed. “I’m teasing you, ‘Rora. Of course, you can sleep in here with me. I’d be thrilled just to snuggle up to you, and I promise to behave myself.”

Her features softened, and a crooked grin found its way onto her lips. “You are so pathetically romantic, Morgan. I don’t know what I’ll do with you.”

He blushed as a few things sprung to mind, but thankfully, the room was too dark for her to notice it.

 

* * *

 

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Traskan’s ship passed the Swordfish without even knowing it was there. If Aurora knew just how accurate her dream had been, she would have demanded they turn around and head home immediately. The captain of the lashran ship stood before the team he had chosen to locate Lythallendar and Lyre. They stood in relaxed silence on the deck, awaiting his orders.

Bakarus had warned him before departure that this would not be an easy mission. Tsabrak was the biggest danger. The pirate was clever and talented in the magical arts. For this reason only, young Auros was allowed to make the trip with them. For all the lifebearer’s youth, he was the most talented diviner in Nandar, and he followed orders without question.

Traskan paced the deck, sizing up his team. His eyes rested on the sweet-faced sorcerer for a moment, and he mentally frowned. Auros had told him that he felt the presence of another magic user, two days ago. The presence had departed too quickly for the young sorcerer to pinpoint it, but the incident forced Traskan to consider the possibility that Tsabrak might have been the source.

“We shall be arriving in the port city of Tariff soon,” he began, “You must all be on your guard. These humans are not used to seeing lashran in the numbers that we are coming in, so if there are any questions asked, remember what you were told. We are delivering rare, exotic materials in exchange for weaponry. Those who fail to remember this will be left behind to fend for themselves. As you know, we do not have the exact location of Lythallendar and Tsabrak’s dwelling. Those of you who have been assigned to glean information must be cautious, and remember not to appear suspicious. We are interested in doing business with them, that is all you need say.”

Each of the lined up crewmembers nodded in understanding, and Traskan continued, “We must be careful not to alert them to our presence, when we locate their home. If possible, we are to bring back all four of them, but the hybrids are the most important. Do not harm any of them, if possible. Nobody is to be killed, either.”

Demadas was hardly listening to the captain’s orders. He was silently formulating what he was going to do upon docking in Tariff. He was thankful that Elder Valamir saw fit to trust him. Though he was loyal to his people, he had come to accept that neither Tsabrak nor Lythas wanted to live in Nandar. He did not believe it was right to try and force them.

It was quite a risky choice he was making. He was defying his own people by deciding to try and warn Tsabrak of their plans. However, his friendship with the pirate ran deep. They had known one another since childhood, and he did not want to see harm come to him. Demadas had seen how desperately unhappy they had all been when imprisoned in Nandar…and when Lythallendar had attempted to kill himself, Demadas was racked with guilt over inviting them to return home in the first place. He should have warned Tsabrak how drastically things had changed in his homelands, before suggesting they all disembark and visit.

When Valamir had come to him with an uncharacteristic pleading edge to his voice, Demadas could not refuse. He couldn’t help but feel that if he hadn’t asked them to stop in Nandar for a visit, none of this would be happening now. “I must make it right,” he thought to himself as his eyes scanned the horizon for land, “I cannot allow my people to enslave my friend or his bondmate.” The sun was just beginning to rise, and he could now see their destination in the distance.

* * *

 

Tsabrak was eager to get his shopping over so that he could return to the house. How some of his old associates would laugh at him, if they saw how smitten he was! He couldn’t bear to be away from Lythas for very long, especially since he discovered that the lifebearer was expecting their first child. He knew it was silly, the way he worried over his mate. Lythas was the picture of health.

Tsabrak could dare say this pregnancy was going along better than when Lythas was expecting Aurora. He had never seen a person glow so much and step so lightly during a pregnancy as Lythas did now. He didn’t even experience the ankle swelling that normally went with the condition. Yes, aside from the morning sickness, Lythas was progressing with extreme comfort and health.

Why then, was Tsabrak so worried? He could only assume it was paranoid excitement over being a parent for the first time. He supposed all prospective sires, be they lashran or human, suffered this nervous anxiety. After all, he was not the one carrying the child, so he could only take his mate’s word for it that everything was fine. Though he did not envy Lythas the changes that his body would be going through, or the painful labor at the end of the cycle, he did envy him the ability to feel everything that was happening, and the ability to know immediately if there was anything wrong.

Tsabrak was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost missed the exclamations of those around him when a lashran ship docked at the harbor. The market place was near the docks, to make it more convenient for sailors to stock their ships (and increase the merchants’ chances of making extra money), and also to lure visiting travelers to pick up a souvenir of the unique Pirate City.

Tariff was much friendlier to travelers these days than it used to be. As long as they didn’t try to interfere with the way things were here, all visitors were welcome. The governor extended his arm to visitors and granted them complete autonomy while in Tariff. This basically meant that nobody was allowed to trouble them. Anyone discovered robbing, assaulting or, heavens forbid, killing a non-resident traveler was subject to trial and hanging (Of course, this protection didn’t extend to emissaries of the king. Tariff was still a pirate haven, and her residents didn’t look kindly on those sent by a ruler they considered to be a tyrant).

As Tsabrak was examining a pineapple for freshness, his ears picked up the whispered exclamations of surprise from people around him. He frowned and tilted his head as he concentrated on focusing on the conversation over the background noise. “lashran ship?” a man was saying to a woman, “Suren it looks like one, but I’m no expert. What’re they doin’ here?”

Tsabrak slowly turned to face the dock, hoping against hope that the man was mistaken. His golden eyes filled with dread when he saw that there was, indeed, a huge galleon docking at the harbor. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a Lashran-built ship. Foolishly perhaps, he hoped that they had come from one of the smaller countries. As far as he knew, Nandar was the only lashran country building an empire.

His fragile hopes were dashed as the crew began to file off of the ship and head towards the registration office. Demadas was among them, and so was Captain Traskan. Tsabrak didn’t like the implications of this. He had tried to hide the truth of where he and Lythas lived from the Council of Elders, but Nicolas had inadvertently ruined that when he sent a message to Bakarus that the people of Tariff might go to war against them for holding them.

There was still a chance that they were merely on a trade mission. What better place was there to get rare items and supplies but a Human Pirate haven? Many of the things that could be found here were outlawed in other places. Still, Tsabrak quietly moved away from the docks and into an ally to observe them. Whatever their intentions were, he thought it best that he not reveal himself to their eyes.

Traskan said something to his crewmembers, and they split up and began to peruse the market area, asking questions about the city as they did. Demadas unknowingly walked straight towards where Tsabrak was hidden, and the pirate grinned at the twist of fate. He could get to the bottom of this, if Demadas came close enough for him to get him into the ally without alerting the others.

Demadas examined the map that he retrieved from the registration office, trying to decide where he should go. Though Traskan knew of the friendship that Demadas shared with Tsabrak, Valamir had convinced him that he would be an important asset on this mission. He might be able to persuade the pirate not to fight them, and reason with him that this was the best thing for he and Lythas, as well as Nandar. Because the Elder gave his word that Demadas was loyal to their vision, and the fact that he might know how Tsabrak thought and give them an extra edge, Traskan agreed to bring him. If he knew that the guardsman was trying to locate Tsabrak to warn him, he would have ordered him to be imprisoned, if he didn’t kill him first.

Demadas knew the risk he was taking. His heart was in conflict. He was as loyal to his people as the next lashran, but like Valamir, this kidnapping scheme didn’t set well in his heart. Forcing their people to adhere to the Council’s will was no way to go about winning loyalty, and he knew it. The fact that such a respected member of the council shared his feelings that this was wrong made choosing to do this much easier on Demadas.

He had always admired Valamir’s quiet, gentle wisdom. The Elder lifebearer never raised his voice more than an octave. Because he spoke softly, people instinctively quieted and paid close attention to what he was saying. His soft, melodic voice often cut through arguments more sufficiently than yelling would, simply because it was so lovely to listen to.

Demadas admitted to himself that he had always been a bit in love with Valamir, ever since he was a lad. It was a pure, idolizing love that sprang not only from the Elder’s beauty, but also from his compassion and amazing way of calming those around him with a soft word. Demadas had never met someone who could create such power from passiveness, and he could not refuse Valamir when he asked for him to do this. Even if Demadas wasn’t a close friend of Tsabrak’s, he might have taken this risk simply because Valamir asked it of him.

He was caught totally off-guard when Tsabrak came up behind him and got him in a sleeper-hold. Demadas struggled as the other sire dragged him into the ally. He could not see his assailant, and assumed it must be some human ruffian.

“Be still, damn you,” a familiar voice hissed in his ear. Demadas stopped struggling, and the hold loosened. He turned to see Tsabrak glaring at him with a look that was half-betrayed hurt and half confusion. “What the bloody hell are you doing here, Demadas?” the pirate asked pointedly.

“Valamir sent me,” Demadas replied quickly, “thank the Forests you are here…Bakarus sent us to bring you all back to Nandar…especially Lythallendar and his son. He wishes us to bring all of you, but his orders are that the hybrids are most important. I came to warn you.”

Tsabrak stared into his old friend’s eyes for a long moment, and wished that Lythas were here with him to ascertain if he spoke the truth. The lifebearer’s ability to sense ill intentions would be most useful, now. “I do not expect you to trust me, old friend,” Demadas whispered, “but you must believe that you and Lythas are in danger. We have a diviner with us, and he is working to locate your whereabouts as we speak!”

Tsabrak’s eyes widened as he did indeed sense the working being activated. Swearing softly, he closed his eyes and mentally shielded himself as thickly as possible. The unseen gaze slid over him, unable to see him. However, he knew that the sorcerer could easily pinpoint Lythas. Shoving Demadas against the wall, Tsabrak dared to peek around the corner.

There was a young lifebearer standing beside Captain Traskan. He had his eyes closed, and his lips moved as he softly chanted. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked up at his superior, nodding in conformation. He spoke, and Traskan motioned to his men to gather around. The sorcerer spoke again…probably giving them all directions, judging by the way he held a map up and pointed out areas on it.

“Damn them all, and their ancestors too!” snarled Tsabrak as the lashran split up and began to move off in different directions. Traskan was looking around with a frown, as if he was trying to locate someone.

“They expect me to be there with them,” explained Demadas, “it will look suspicious if I do not show soon.”

Tsabrak took several deep breaths, his mind in turmoil. He knew that Demadas had taken a huge risk in betraying his orders and warning him. He couldn’t in good conscience hold his old friend back and put him in further danger. Finally, the pirate released the other lashran. “Go. Before they suspect something. Thank you for coming to warn me, old friend.”

Demadas nodded. “I wish I could say that I will not be present when they reach your home, but I must at least appear to be loyal to the mission.”

Tsabrak shook his head. “Don’t trouble yourself. I know how dangerous it was for you to come to me first. Do not try to enter the house, if you can avoid it. I would never forgive myself if I had to kill you.”

With a heavy sigh, Demadas turned and left. Tsabrak closed his eyes again and tried with all his might to contact Lythallendar mentally. He had never tried to communicate this way with anyone he had not worked magic with, before. He could only hope that the bond of love he shared with his mate would be enough. Sweat beaded on his face and his head began to ache from the strain. “Please,” he whispered softly, “Please hear me, Lythas. Arm those bloody contraptions you’ve booby-trapped the house with…hurry! They are coming!”

* * *

 

Lythas paused as he set the tea down in front of Charlotte and Jahlad. A puzzled look spread across his delicate features, and he cocked his head to one side as though listening.

“What’s the matter, love?” asked Charlotte in concern. She could hear nothing out of the ordinary to account for Lythallendar’s sudden expression.

“I…I do not know,” he replied honestly, green eyes shifting around the room, “an odd feeling has come over me suddenly.”

“It isn’t the babe, is it?” questioned Jahlad anxiously.

Lythas shook his head. “No, not that. For a moment, I felt as though someone was standing in the room, yelling at me to beware. I’ve got a sense of dread in my belly all the sudden.”

Jahlad smiled indulgently, assuming it was a result of hormonal changes due to Lythas’ condition. Charlotte, however, pursed her lips in worry. She and Lythas had always been close, and she knew that his feelings weren’t merely paranoia. The lad was extremely sensitive to threats and ill intentions of others. “Is the house locked up, dear?” she asked.

Lythas shook his head. “Not as tightly as I think would be wise. If the two of you will help me, I think that we should arm the defenses. The warning in my heart is very strong, and I could swear that I heard Tsabrak’s voice in my mind a moment ago…though very faintly. I feel as though he is trying to tell me something.”

“But Tsabrak is at the market…surely no danger has come to him there!” argued Jahlad.

Lythas bit his lip. “No…I do not feel that he is in immediate danger. I feel as though the danger is directed at us. Please, do not argue with me! Help me arm the house.”

Jahlad sighed and didn’t argue further. With some effort, the old sorcerer arose from the couch and grasped his walking stick. Charlotte, though just as old, had aged more gracefully than Jahlad. She was still a handsome woman and her body was in better shape. Likely it was because she did more physical labor in her life, while most of his exercises were of the mind. Poor Jahlad could barely use magic anymore, as he could no longer remember most of the chants and procedures, but he was as kind hearted as he ever was.

Every window and door in the manor was trapped with some sort of deadly device. Lythas hadn’t felt the need to arm any of them since returning home with Tsabrak, but all were still very much in working order. He hoped that these feelings of dread really were merely paranoid delusions, as Jahlad seemed to believe. He also hoped that no innocent people came to call at his door after he armed the place. His neighbors already thought his entire family was cracked, and they barely tolerated him. Beheading or disemboweling one of them by accident surely wouldn’t help their reputation.

* * *

 

Traskan waited for conformation from Auros before giving his men the go-ahead. The sorcerer closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath, then nodded in satisfaction. “This is Tsabrak and Lythallendar’s dwelling,” he said to his superior.

“You have done well, Auros. Stay back, and prepare to counter any magic that Tsabrak might use against us.”

Auros bowed gracefully, though he was worried. Tsabrak wasn’t the only magic user to worry about. If Vurkanan was there as well, he would have two powerful elementalists to deal with. Auros had been unable to detect any of them save Lythas, however…so if luck was with them, the raven-haired hybrid was alone in the house. Once they had him, they might be able to convince the others to give themselves up.

The sorcerer cast a mistrustful glance at the sire named Demadas as they began to split up and move towards the house in separate parties. Though Valamir had vouched for Demadas’ loyalty, Auros felt disquiet in him. He knew that the other didn’t really wish to capture Lythallendar and Lyre. He knew better than to argue the decision, however. Traskan would take it as a personal insult if he did.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on creating a blanket over the circumference of the house, which would hopefully make it appear as though nothing was amiss, to any who happened to be walking by. They had been assured that the residents of Tariff generally minded their own business…contrary to what the human Nicolas had claimed when he kidnapped Elder Valamir.

Bakarus did not tell anyone what his sources were, but he was convinced that it had all been a clever ruse to intimidate the Lashran into giving up the hybrids. Judging by the information they learned when they landed, the head Elder’s source was correct. Though Lythallendar was a respected businessman here, his neighbors thought that he and his family were odd, and they might not be bothered by someone abducting him. Without the protection of his former mate, Coren, the city was rather indifferent to any harm that might befall him or his family.

Auros snorted. Why did they bother to live among humans, anyways? They would never blend in, and the way they seemed to be excluded from the society proved that Bakarus was doing them a favor by taking them back to their homelands, where they belonged. In his unquestioning loyalty, Auros truly believed that Lythallendar and the others would eventually accept and love their life in Nandar. What lashran wouldn’t?

His concentration was broken by an anguished scream. Auros opened his eyes to see that one of the sires had gone up to the front door and rang the bell (Traskan’s plan was for him to distract Lythas long enough for the rest of their forces to break in and cut off the hybrid’s chance to escape). The young sorcerer stared in horror. The sire that had rung the doorbell now lay on the porch, clutching at the place where his arm used to be. The appendage had been neatly severed by a swinging pendulum, which he hadn’t been quick enough to avoid. Auros stared in fascination at the severed arm, which was lying beside the stricken Sire and twitching spasmodically. Traskan swore and motioned to two of his other men, who quickly dragged the wounded one away.

The confusion did not end there. Apparently, the windows were similarly trapped, for one of the lashran attempted to break into a side window, and he staggered away with two crossbow bolts sticking out of his chest.

“How did they know?!” hollered Auros in a panic as chaos erupted. Traskan threw Auros to the ground and covered his body with his own as musket shots rang out. Lythallendar was shooting at them! At his own people! Auros tried to rise, but Traskan held him down and shouted at his men to seek cover.

Their forces were already down to half, and they hadn’t even managed to get a window cracked open yet! Three of Traskan’s crew were dead, killed by vicious traps ranging from triggered crossbows to chopping guillotines. Several more lay wounded or dying. Auros noticed that none of the shots fired from within the house had been aiming to kill. All of the Lashran who had been hit were shot in the leg, arm, or shoulder.

* * *

 

 Demadas was torn. Though he was loyal to his people, he didn’t believe it was right to try and force Lythallendar and the others to return to Nandar. He hid his own personal feelings well, but he suspected that the young sorcerer who was with them sensed his discomfort with the entire thing. When chaos broke out, Demadas stood there gaping, unsure of what to do. The leader of his own group lay dead at his feet, his face no longer recognizable from the hole blasted into it. He had set off some sort of trigger when he attempted to jimmy the window at the east side of the house, and Demadas and the others watched in helpless confusion as a musketshot rang out and their leader fell to the ground, twitching in his death throes.

One of the younger sires started to approach the window with the intention of disarming the trap, and Demadas grabbed his arm to stop him. “No! Fall back, until we are given further instructions!” He said when the other looked at him in confusion. Reluctantly, his small group did as he suggested. The guardsman prayed that this would all end soon. With any luck, Traskan would give up and they would take their wounded back to the ship and sail home without Lythallendar in their custody. He would much prefer it that way, rather than risking more lives or harming his friend’s bondmate.

He crawled around to the corner of his end of the house, so that he could see the front where Traskan and Auros should be. The captain was shielding the lifebearer with his own body and making hand signals to those who were within sight. The message was to stay low and wait. Obviously, Traskan wasn’t ready to give up yet…he merely wanted to buy time to think of another plan of action. Demadas heaved a heavy sigh and rested his back against the wall.

“What does the captain command?” Questioned one of the sires in his unit. Blood had splattered his face when their leader met his demise, and he was pale and shaking. Demadas couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t expected the house to be this well guarded. If he had, he would have attempted to find some way to stall their advancement without making himself look suspicious.

“We are to lie low and wait for further instructions. Stay away from the windows and doors.” The other nodded and crawled back to his original position to relay the message to the others. Demadas turned his head and looked towards the street and canal. So far, there had been no passers-by to worry about. The Darshaw manor was in the upper class part of the city, and the housing was spaced fairly far apart. Traskan had thought that would make their task easier, for there would be little traffic to worry about, and therefore, no interference from the other residents of Tariff.

Demadas went still as a flicker of movement caught his eye. It was so faint that at first he thought he had imagined it. He narrowed his eyes and stared, certain that he had seen a brief glimpse of a blurred form, moving stealthily towards the walkway that lead to the house. There it was again…he was certain of it now. It was moving quietly up behind Traskan and Auros’ prone forms at the beginning of the pathway.

“Tsabrak,” he mouthed silently. His heartbeat picked up as he agonized over his loyalty to his friend and to his captain. What was Tsabrak trying to do? Was he going to attempt to sneak past them all to get into the house, possibly risking becoming a victim of his own booby-traps? Or was he planning something else entirely?

For half a second, Demadas considered crying out a warning to Traskan, for the shifting, smoky form was most definitely creeping up behind the captain. He held back, however. He knew Tsabrak, and despite the pirate’s formidable weapon and magic skills, he was no cold and merciless death-dealer. Demadas only hoped that he wasn’t spotted before he could reach the Captain, or the chances of them leaving Tariff without prisoners would be gone.

* * *

 

Tsabrak moved as quietly as he possibly could. The invisibility spell he had worked on himself was not perfect-he had worn himself out trying to communicate with Lythas, and could only manage a sort of camouflage. His form blended in with the environment around him, rendering him nearly invisible so long as he did not move too quickly.

When he first came within sight of the home he shared with his mate, hope mixed with fear had made his breath catch in his throat. The manor appeared to be unbothered, and there was no sign of anyone near it. He increased his speed slightly, anxious to find out whether that meant that the lashran encroachers had already given up and returned to their ship, or if it meant that Lythas hadn’t heard his warning and they had easily abducted him. Charlotte and Jahlad were visiting, but how much help could a senile old wizard and a little old woman be against trained Nandar warriors? Tsabrak prayed that he wouldn’t open his door to find Lythallendar gone and his friends dead on the floor.

If he discovered that they had already taken Lythallendar, he decided that he would use the last of his strength to teleport himself to the docks and give himself up. He would throw himself on their mercy, if he had to, should that be the only way for he and Lythas to be together. Even if it meant a life of slavery for both of them, at least they would have each other, and they may find a way to escape again someday. Tsabrak was very thankful that the younglings were away on an errand. At least, if the worst happened and the Lashran managed to capture he and Lythas, Lyre and Aurora would be safe. He would leave them a hasty note, telling them to pack up and leave Tariff for good, if he had to.

Tsabrak paused at the edge of the bubble that Auros had worked around the perimeter of the house. He could sense it, and he wondered if it might be some sort of trap. Deciding that he didn’t have the time or energy to attempt a divination to find out, the pirate grit his teeth and passed the insubstantial barrier.

The sight that greeted his eyes when he came through was enough to make him pause and swear an oath of amazement. It looked for all the world as though a war had occurred on his own lawn. He counted three unmoving lashran, presumably dead, and several others who were seriously wounded from crossbow bolts, slashes and musket shots. One unfortunate sire lay on the brink of death at the west side of the house. His arm was missing, and another sire was desperately trying to staunch the bloodflow.

Tsabrak’s golden eyes scanned the area and rested on the porch. A crooked smile found it’s way onto his lips as he noticed the razor-sharp axe still swinging from the ceiling over the door. On the floor beside the door lay the wounded lashran’s missing arm. Tsabrak could not see Demadas, and he wondered with a touch of anxiety if his friend was safe.

Tsabrak felt his knees go weak with relief. Lythas was safe…at least for now. It was clear that the Lifebearer had either sensed the danger approaching or picked up on Tsabrak’s desperate call. Tsabrak was confident that all three of the deaths and most of the wounded could be attributed to the manor’s defense system. It was unlikely that Lythas had pulled the trigger to any blow that killed a lashran.

Despite the fact that they deserved it, Lythallendar was a gentle creature who would never kill another being if he could avoid it. In fact, Tsabrak felt confident that most of the musket wounds could be credited to Charlotte, and not Lythallendar. His mate had never fully picked up on how to use firearms. He always had preferred his whip or a fencing sword, when it came to combat. Odd that he should be so inventive with weaponry, considering how little he liked it.

Tsabrak tried to think of a way to get passed the lashran that surrounded his home. They seemed to be waiting for something…likely attempting to think of another way in. This bought him time, but not safety. Because his illusion wasn’t complete, he couldn’t merely walk past them and climb the latticework to the attic window (which, for all he knew, could be armed as well).

As he pondered his dilemma, his eyes caught site of Captain Traskan, who was covering a smaller lashran protectively with his body. They were lying behind the hedges at the beginning of the walkway leading to the Darshaw home. Tsabrak’s hands strayed to his belt, where his musket was holstered and his saber was sheathed. If he were to attempt to take the captain hostage, which weapon would be of the most use? Traskan had a reputation of being a fine swordsman and martial artist. Whether he was as good with human firearms as he was with lashran weapons was a mystery to Tsabrak.

In the end, the pirate decided to use both. He could not afford to take any chances with the dangerous captain, and he had a suspicion that the smaller lashran he was protecting was the young sorcerer they had brought with them. He hoped that the lad didn’t try to use magic against him. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to counter it, and he knew he couldn’t pull the trigger on an innocent who was merely caught up in something they didn’t completely understand. Steeling himself, Tsabrak crept forward, adjusting his breathing to a mere whisper, lest it give him away. He paused several times as Traskan lifted his head and looked around. If the captain looked over his shoulder, he might detect Tsabrak approaching, and all hell would break loose.

* * *

 

“Please Sir, I may be able to make him sleep, if you allow me the chance,” Auros said softly, pushing ineffectively at Traskan’s shoulders. If he could concentrate well enough, he might be able to work a sleep spell on those inside of the house, making Lythallendar’s retrieval much easier on them all.

Traskan looked down at him and frowned. “We were warned that the hybrid has some unusual abilities, Auros. What works on most lashran likely will not work on him. No, I cannot allow the risk. Even if he is not a magic user, he might have some mental ability that could cause your spell to backlash and damage you.”

Auros parted his lips to argue. Despite how flattered he was by the captain’s protectiveness of him, none of them came on this trip without taking risks. He wanted to do his part too, so that they could all get safely home…even if Lythallendar was the only prize they brought back. He felt honored that he had been chosen to go on this mission, considering that he was a lifebearer and was of prime breeding age. His abilities gave him more freedom than other lifebearers, and he wished to prove that he could use them. Otherwise, he might end up like the rest of them. Not that he didn’t want a family and a mate, but he enjoyed the chance to see other places and the respect that came with the position.

Seeing by the dismayed look on Auros’ fair features that the sorcerer was about to argue with him, Traskan put a finger to the other’s lips to shush him. “I may let you try it after I’ve decided a more defensible formation for our teams, little one. For now, I am more concerned with keeping us all alive and finding a way past those damnable traps they’ve got set up.”

Auros nodded and relaxed. He hated to admit it, but he quite liked the feel of Traskan’s body pressing him down. It was unfortunate for both of them that the lifebearer was so distracted at that moment, for by the time he noticed the shifting form of Tsabrak sneaking up on them, it was too late to cry out a warning to his captain.

* * *

 

“If you so much as breath wrong, I will slit you open from ear to ear,” murmured Tsabrak as he pressed his blade against Traskan’s throat. The captain froze, and the lifebearer beneath him stared up at Tsabrak with huge blue eyes. “I wouldn’t suggest your little sorcerer try anything either,” continued the pirate in a conversational tone. He trained his musket on Auros, aiming right between his startled eyes.

“What do you intend to do?” Questioned Traskan evenly. He knew it was no use to try and fabricate some innocent excuse for all of his men to have surrounded the Darshaw manor, so he didn’t bother trying.

“That depends on you and your men, Captain. I want you to stand up slowly and remove your weapons.”

Traskan carefully did as he was bidden, making sure that he kept his motions slow and deliberate. An eerie hush fell over the area as the other lashran saw that their leader was being held at both musket-point and saber-point. Traskan unbuckled his swordbelt and allowed it to fall to the ground. “What next?”

“Please kick it over there, into the bushes.”

He did so, and gave Auros a warning glare as the young Lifebearer started to mouth an offensive spell. Tsabrak apparently noticed it as well, for he snapped, “Have a care, young magic user! I should hate to blow that pretty face off of your shoulders!” Auros went pale and subsided.

“Tell your men to stand down, Captain,” hissed Tsabrak as several of them began to move forward. The pirate pressed his blade more firmly against Traskan’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Traskan motioned sharply with his hands, and the lashran stopped their advance and waited silently.

“Despite what you may think, we did not intend any harm to you or yours, Tsabrak. Our orders were to collect you all and bring you back home, and no harm was to come to any of you.” Traskan said softly.

Tsabrak snorted. “And what do you and the Council deem as ‘harm’? Did we or did we not make it quite clear to them that we do not wish to live in Nandar? Taking us against our will out of some warped sense of loyalty to lashran society isn’t what I would define as harmless. You may as well say you’ve come to make slaves of us.”

“That is not true,” argued Auros vehemently, “the Council feels that you will only come to harm, living among humans like this! Look at them…they do not accept you as a part of their society! In Nandar, you and your family will be loved and accepted…cherished as all lashran are!”

Tsabrak shook his head in amazement at the young lifebearer’s blind faith in his people’s supposedly “good intentions”. It wasn’t his fault, really. It wasn’t any of the invading lashrans’ faults. Their own government had misled them.

“I’ve no time for this,” Tsabrak said, “tell your men to relinquish their weapons and bring the wounded inside. We will have all of you bound so that you may not cause trouble, and we will do what we can for those of you who are wounded. You may as well accept that you’re going back to Nandar empty-handed.” Ignoring the sputtering protest that Traskan tried to give, Tsabrak gave a shrill whistle and waved his musket over his head. A moment later, the front door of the house opened, the axe on the porch retracted back into the ceiling, and Lythallendar stood at the threshold beside Charlotte. The woman kept her rifle musket ready in case any of the Lashran attempted to come too close.

* * *

 

Lythas sighed and put his head in his hands. There was nothing any of them could do for the sire that had lost his arm, and a doctor would not make it there in time. He steeled himself and raised his sad green eyes to the Captain, who was bound by the wrists and ankles and waited anxiously on the couch. “He is too far gone. The best that I can do is give him a sedative that might send him into a healing trance…or it might ease him into the next life. It is your decision, Captain.”

Traskan frowned, caught between the desire to blame this gentle, raven-haired creature for the situation and the knowledge that he knew the risks when he chose to attempt a kidnapping. “Try the sedative. Forests willing, he will trance and could possibly be on his way to recovery by the time we leave. That is, if you intend to let us go.”

Charlotte was standing by the window, and she shot an angry glare at Traskan and muttered, “I wouldn’t. I’d lock you all up ‘till you rot, if it were up to me!”

Lythas smiled fondly at the old woman, though his smile was sad. “If I thought it would get through to them, I might just try that, dear Charlotte. Doing so would make me no better than they are, however.”

Tsabrak nodded. “Indeed. What we intend to do is patch your fellows up as well as we can and send you on your way. If any of you attempt to come back, for any reason, you will die. Is that understood?” His golden eyes were narrowed as he stared at Traskan.

“I wish that I could say that would not happen, Tsabrak, but I’m afraid that is not our decision. We had our orders. I can promise you that none of the men who came with me will attempt to capture you or your family again while we are here, but I cannot speak for the Council, as you well know. If they order me to come back and attempt to retrieve you again, I will do so.”

Tsabrak stared at Traskan for a long moment, a look of exasperation twisting his features. Then he turned to Demadas. “Is everyone in your group so bloody thick-witted, or is it just your captain?!”

The guardsman shrugged as best he could in his bound condition. Auros narrowed his eyes at Demadas and hissed, “He is a traitor! He is how they knew that we were coming…it is the only explanation! You will answer to the Council when we return!” The sorcerer struggled against the cords that bound him, clearly furious and ready to attack Demadas with his bare hands.

Tsabrak shot a glance at Lythas to see if his mate had any advice to give him on this suddenly delicate matter, but the lifebearer was busy putting together a concoction to feed the dying sire.

_~ I suppose I’ll have to wing it, ~_ Tsabrak thought to himself. He painted his best look of surprise on his features and glanced from Demadas to Auros and back again. “What in the hells are you talking about, lad? Out with it!”

Seething with fury, Auros hissed, “He must have warned you both of our coming, somehow! He is a traitor!”

The lifebearer would have continued, but Traskan barked, “Settle yourself down this instant, Auros! This is a serious accusation to make against one who was recommended by one of our most esteemed Council members!”

“He told us nothing,” Tsabrak added firmly, “I happened to be shopping in the market area when your ship landed, and I figured it out for myself. It wasn’t hard to see what you were planning to do, considering that Auros here had lifted up a map and was pointing at it and proclaiming out loud where our home was located.”

Auros opened and closed his mouth indignantly, then finally managed to blurt, “I scanned the area! I could find no trace of you!”

Tsabrak couldn’t help but chuckle. Ah, youth. They all thought that they held it all in their hands. “Did you think that I would merely stand there and let you divine my location, youngling? I’m no fool, and I have lived for centuries longer than you have. I’ve the experience to know how to block myself from such workings.”

As Auros flushed in embarrassment and fell silent, Tsabrak paced to where Traskan sat. “And you…by the gods, if you ever attempted to pilfer a ship with your tactics, you’d be sunk within moments. Nandar cannot bring military tactics back into their society after centuries of pacifism and expect to be experts again! This is not like riding a horse. When it comes to war and military tactics, you cannot simply jump back on as though you had never stopped.”

Traskan held his head up proudly, but he could not hide the confusion that leaked into his grey eyes. “Would you mind telling me what your point is, besides informing us of just how sloppy we were?”

Lythas looked up from his squatting position beside the wounded sire on the floor, curious himself about what his mate was trying to say. It seemed fairly dangerous to him, for Tsabrak to let their enemies know where they messed up. What WAS he trying to do?

Tsabrak gave Traskan a level look. “I am saying that Bakarus has let his greed drive him mad. I am saying that he knew there was a good chance he was sending many of you to your death, and he did not care. He sent you in ill prepared and ill trained against something that you only had a little bit of information about. Tell me, does that sound like the actions of a leader? Mark my words, he will lead the Council down the same path that he’s chosen, and that path will bring about the downfall of Nandar.”

Everyone went silent. Even those who were wounded ceased their moans as Tsabrak’s words sunk in. None of them wanted to admit it, but there was some truth to his claims. Lately, the laws that the Council had been passing had become more and more unreasonable. Many of the sires that came on this excursion had mates waiting at home, and only a few of them had actually chosen their mates.

At first, the reasoning behind the selective breeding laws made sense, but some of the actions that the Council had taken recently seemed rather severe. Cutting off trade with humans was something that made all of the lashran nervous, for it portended the possibility of a war that most of them knew they weren’t ready to fight.

“This is treason, and I shall not listen to another moment of it,” Traskan said, narrowing his eyes dangerously, “the Council has their reasons, and Elder Bakarus is leading us into a new era. He has more backbone than any of our leaders have shown since the Great Wars.”

Tsabrak nodded, having expected the outburst. “Aye…and the Great Wars caused the death of millions…of both species. Let us not forget how much of our environment was damaged in the process as well. Bakarus may have ambition, but those with such ambition usually cause ruination for all involved.”

There were angry murmurs from Traskan’s men, and Lythas glanced around nervously and pursed his lips. “Be that as it may, they will not take your word for it, beloved. Let us just see to the wounded and get them back on their ship. I do not want them in my home.”

To Traskan, he said, “I am deeply sorry for the loss of life and the wounds your men have suffered, but I am not sorry for disrupting your plans for us. We will defend ourselves…violently, if need be. You can tell the Council that, upon your return. Tell them to leave us alone, for it will only cause more death to continue with this madness!”

Demadas said nothing; certain that anything he might add to the argument would only make things worse for him. The good news was that Auros now gazed at him with uncertainty, instead of the suspicion that he had born before. None of the sires present showed any further interest in the lifebearer’s accusations. It occurred to Demadas that he and the other sires truly did underestimate the intuitive powers of lifebearers. He had heard that human women were much the same. Fairer and more gentle than their male counterparts, but far more deadly when angered because of their subtlety.

A Human explorer once said to him, “I don’t trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn’t die.” When he asked what the man meant, the explorer told him he was speaking of women. Demadas didn’t quite understand it then…not even when the man explained to him that women’s strength wasn’t as obvious as men’s, that they relied on something subtler than physical strength. Seeing the way Auros had put doubt into Traskan’s eyes with his passionate accusation that Demadas was a traitor, the guardsman began to see what the Human explorer had meant. It seemed that the more “gentle” sex in both species was also the more dangerous. The way Lythallendar’s eyes glowed with the angry promise of death as he stared at Traskan, Demadas was even more convinced.

* * *

 

The sire that lost his arm was fortunate enough to go into a healing trance, but whether he would survive the trip home was anyone’s guess. Though he had come with the intention of kidnapping him, Lythallendar prayed that the Sire’s arm would regenerate and that he would live a long and healthy life. Tsabrak contacted a few of their friends who did business with them (granted, there weren’t many who the pirate could truly call “friend”, but the few that he could were as loyal as they came), and they accompanied Traskan and his crew to the docks, to make sure that none of them tried anything.

Tsabrak noticed the way Traskan kept as close to Auros as possible, keeping the young man shielded with his own body, as if he feared someone might try to harm him. The pirate grinned and fell into step with the captain as they approached the lashran vessel. “A word of advice, Captain,” he whispered in the other sire’s ear, “Don’t wait for too long, or the person of your fancy might slip through your fingers.”

Traskan shot Tsabrak an annoyed look, clearly irritated at the pirate’s unwanted advice. His stern demeanor softened when Auros stumbled a bit, and he quickly put his arm around the sorcerer supportively. Auros gave him a thankful half smile and apologized for his clumsiness. Clearly, the sorcerer was exhausted, and he hadn’t slept much in the three days that they were held at the Darshaw house. “I shall remember your advice, Tsabrak…at least as it pertains to that matter.” Traskan said softly.

“And the other advice?” Replied Tsabrak.

Traskan grimaced. “I will obey the Council, in whatever task they set before me. I shall convey your message, but how it will be received is as much your guess as it is mine.”

Tsabrak nodded. “Fair enough. Let us hope for all our sakes that three corpses will be enough proof for Bakarus to convince him that pursuing this matter is foolish.”

* * *

 

The first thing that Tsabrak did when he entered his home was to take Lythas into his arms and hold him tightly. Now that the threat was gone, he could not hide how very frightened he had been for his mate and unborn child. His hand sought out Lythallendar’s still flat belly and rested there as his lips sought out the Lifebearer’s mouth. “We are both fine, beloved,” whispered Lythas between kisses. He could feel his mate trembling in his arms. “Shhh…they are gone now. They cannot hurt us.”

Tsabrak buried his face in Lythas’ soft, ebony hair and held him more tightly. “I know. Allow me to have a nervous breakdown, little one. I’ve held it off for two days now.”

Lythallendar chuckled and rubbed Tsabrak’s back soothingly. “I am just relieved that the younglings weren’t here for that fiasco. It could have been much worse, if they had been. I would not have been able to defy Captain Traskan, if he would have managed to capture any of our young ones. Especially my children.”

Tsabrak nodded and pulled back so that he could stare at his bondmate’s angelic features. He was as in awe of Lythallendar’s beauty today as he had been when he had first laid eyes on him, so many years ago. “By the forests, I do hope that any lifebearers we parent do not take after you, dear one,” he murmured, tracing Lythas’ fine-boned face with his fingertips, “we shall have to beat the lads off with a stick, if they do!”

Lythas burst into laughter and shook his head. “You forget, Tsab…the only lads around here are humans, and not many of them fancy other men. I think the lasses might be more of a problem.” He frowned at this, his green eyes going pensive.

Tsabrak understood. It would be hard for their children, to be raised among humankind. Especially for a lifebearer, should they be blessed with one. If only things weren’t so bloody insane on Nandar! “Perhaps we should consider seeking out other lashran colonies…ones that aren’t influenced by the Nandar Council,” he suggested softly.

Lythas sighed and kissed Tsabrak’s chest as he hugged him. “I wish it was so easy, beloved. I am quite frankly afraid to seek out our own kind. Do you remember Bakarus telling Vurkanan’s assailants that the Council sent word to all of the other lashran realms, denouncing them as criminals? How could we be certain that any colony we locate is an independent one?”

Tsabrak rocked Lythas gently and stroked his hair. “I know, little one. I just hate to see you worrying over things such as this.”

Lythas shrugged. “It is silly of me to worry over them now. Lyre and Aurora grew up healthy and happy in a human environment, and they’ve both found someone…even if Aurora refuses to admit it. Come…let us take a hot bath and forget about the troubles of the last few days.” He pulled out of Tsabrak’s embrace and tugged on his hand, and the sire had to admit that bathing with Lythas and perhaps doing a bit more than that was quite an appealing idea.

* * *

 

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The Swordfish weighed anchor in the very same cove it had been in when Aurora kidnapped Elder Valamir. It was then that the arguments began. “I should go,” insisted Aurora, “I know how to move stealthily without the use of magic, and they may sense Vurkanan if he casts any spells.”

Lyre shook his head. “But, what if they caught you? They’d find out the truth about what you are soon enough, and then what would happen? I truly think that you should stay here on the ship, Aurora.”

She put her hands on her hips and harrumphed. “Is that so? Well, what of you? They know your face, and in case you’re forgetting, they wanted you for the same reasons they would want me!”

Vurkanan frowned and rubbed Lyre’s arm. “She does have a point, you know,” he said thoughtfully.

Lyre couldn’t refute that logic, so instead he replied, “Then what would you have the two of us do? We came on this journey to help…not to stand by and do nothing! Are you suggesting that we let Nicolas and Morgan go into the city alone? Two Humans, into the lion’s den, so to speak?”

Nicolas finally spoke up. His eyes were flat with resolve as he murmured; “I will go in alone, if I must. It’s best that the rest of you keep here, so that we will all be ready if I succeed. I care only for getting Valamir safely away from here.”

They quieted and looked at one another. None of them wanted to leave Nicolas on his own in this endeavor, yet they all knew the risks with any one of them being caught. Morgan finally said, “I think that I should go with you…to help with my magicks, if I can.”

Nicolas almost smiled at him, the corner of his mouth lifting the slightest bit. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the knight said.

Lyre opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. He couldn’t think of an argument against his childhood friends, no matter how logical it might seem to do so. “I…hope that you two know what you are doing,” he finally said, at a loss.

Morgan forced a smile. “Not at all,” he admitted with a nervous laugh.

“You do not know the city,” argued Vurkanan, “I should link with Morgan, so that he can navigate.”

The young Bargel nodded once, determinedly. Vurkanan guided him away from the upper deck and to the lower hatches. Aurora narrowed her eyes on Nicolas, assessing his attire. “You know,” she said bluntly, “that armor of yours is going to make too much noise. I don’t know how in the hells you get around in it! I think there needs to be some adjustments to your attire.”

He looked at her warily, as though she was a snake poised to strike. “I go nowhere without my armor,” he protested, “it has practically been a part of me since the day I was initiated.”

Aurora rolled her eyes and begged the gods for patience. Putting her hand on his arm, she said, “I understand that, but you’ll give yourself and Morgan away on the spot if you go in there rattling like an engine! Come on…I’m sure you can fit into some of Lyre’s clothes.” With that said, she gripped his arm and pulled, leading him towards the hatch that led to the lower deck.

* * *

 

“Well, this is quite a change, I must say!” Commented Vurkanan with raised eyebrows. They had finished their preparations, and Nicolas returned to the top deck wearing black, snug-fitting clothing borrowed from Lyre. It was a tighter fit on him than the lashran, as he was of a larger build.

He took Vurkanan’s admiring gaze stoically, though he was blushing furiously on the inside. Lyre also noticed the purposely flirtatious grin that his lover gave the human, and he shook his head and chuckled. He was quite used to Vurkanan’s outrageous personality, and he had learned that his little flirtations were more to tease and perhaps to inflame his possessive urges than to entice.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he murmured to the knight, who was hiding his discomfort well, “he is like that with everyone.”

“I don’t know how you can handle it,” Nicolas whispered back, “I would need to know that what’s mine is mine.”

Lyre nodded in agreement. “Aye…and so do I. He proves to me every night that he is mine. Vurk is a tease, and we both know it. I love him, regardless.”

Nicolas gave a small start of honest surprise and flashed a quick glance at the silver-haired lifebearer, who had stopped grinning at him and was now off to the side speaking with Morgan-who was also dressed in black, but his outfit wasn’t as tight-fitting. “Does he know how you feel?” He questioned in a low voice. Why it mattered to him, he didn’t know…other than the fact that Lyre was one of his oldest friends. Personally, he thought that Vurkanan was too flighty for someone like Lyre.

The young sire looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he nodded. “I think that he does. Sometimes, your actions can prove more than your words. A lot happened while we were prisoners here, and I believe that we both learned how deep our feelings ran for one another. What started out as a crush has become as necessary as the very air I breathe.”

Nicolas gave a small, crooked smile to his friend. “Do I hear wedding bells in the future for my poetic friend?” He teased. He was feeling rather giddy, now that his goal was within his grasp. The desire to part with his friend in lighthearted fellowship was important to him, as there was no guarantee that he and Morgan would succeed in their mission. Or that they would even live to tell about it, in fact.

Lyre stifled a laugh with his hand and shrugged, lowering his emerald gaze. “Who can say? Only, with us, it would be a Bonding chant, rather than wedding bells. If there were such a thing as a Best Man in Vashekna, I would wish for you to be mine, Nick.”

Nicolas said nothing, though his eyes softened and he laid a hand on Lyre’s shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. Aurora broke into their silent communication. “Well now, we’ve got to camouflage you boys’ skin, as well,” the young woman said, and she held two jars of paint.

“’Rora, isn’t that a bit much?” Asked Morgan in a slightly exasperated tone, “I WILL be using my magic to make us blend in with our surroundings, after all.”

She reached up and squeezed his chin in a rare display of affection. “No, that isn’t enough to suite me, my lad. I want you two to be extra careful. Do you know what they’ll do if they find two humans sneaking around in their city? With the racial relations being as stressed as they are right now? No arguments, wizard.”

The brothers bowed to her wisdom and allowed her to smear black and green paint all over their faces and necks, and she insisted that they wear black gloves, as well. “I know this seems silly right now,” consoled Lyre as Nicolas shot him a suffering look, “but Aurora is an expert at getting in and out of places without being found…and she uses no magic. There’s no harm in being prepared, just in case the worse happens and Morgan’s spells fail.”

Morgan scoffed, “My spells never fail!”

Nicolas muttered, “Valamir probably won’t recognize me with all of this goop on my face. I’m likely to give the poor fellow a heart attack, sneaking up on him looking like this.”

Vurkanan grinned. “Or make him have his baby early. Just try not to be so intimidating. Aurora has told me how frightened he was of you when you first met.”

Nicolas glared. “Thanks. I shall keep that in mind.”

* * *

 

“You’re saying that you _know_ this place?” Nicolas whispered dubiously to his brother as they quietly approached the paths that would lead to Vartros.

Morgan nodded and tapped his temple with his fingertip. “Aye…Vurkanan imprinted images of the entire city in my mind when we forged the link. He and I can keep contact as we go along, just in case we hit an area that I can’t identify.”

Nicolas frowned and wished that he could better grasp the principals of magic. He could agree with Aurora on one thing; it all sounded like hogwash. However, he had seen proof of its effectiveness too many times to deny it’s worth. “Very well. Work your spell and let’s get moving. I want to have Valamir with us and heading back to the Swordfish long before the sun begins to rise.”

Morgan nodded. They wouldn’t even have time for the Elder to change into dark clothing (if he even owned any. The Bargel had never seen Valamir in anything besides bright, metallic colors). Even if they did, Valamir’s shockingly bright hair would show up like a bloodstain on snow, once the sun began to rise. They would have to try and cover the glorious mane as well as they could and use magic to conceal the Elder from prying eyes.

For just a moment, Morgan hesitated. What if Valamir refused to go with them? True, it was blatantly clear that he and Nicolas had shared a powerful connection to one another…one which went beyond mere physical attraction. But, Morgan was forced to consider that there was a chance that the Elder’s heart had changed, once he returned to his old life and didn’t have the handsome Paladin to distract him. There was also the problem of Valamir’s almost paternal loyalty to his people. Would he look at it as too great of a betrayal to the lashran, to leave them like this?

Nick raised his eyebrows and began to tap his foot impatiently. His hands rested on the hilts of his longswords, which he had chosen in favor of his huge Claymore, for the sake of stealth. Morgan took the hint and shook himself out of his reverie. He closed his eyes and hummed softly under his breath, then began to intone the proper chant. Nicolas braced himself as if waiting for a blow to the face, and he shivered as he felt the tingling sensation from the spell blanketing him. The tingling subsided to a mild tone, and he opened his eyes and looked at his brother in puzzlement. “I can still see you quite clearly,” he said.

Morgan sighed. “Of course, you can. The spell wouldn’t do much good to either of us if we couldn’t see each other, or our own hands, for that matter!”

“Oh. Right. Let’s move, then.”

* * *

 

“They’ve reached the paths,” Vurkanan said to the others, who looked at him anxiously, “so far, so good…as the humans say.”

Aurora began to pace like a caged tigress, and she nibbled her fingernails absently. “Don’t do that, ‘Rora,” chastised Lyre as he pulled her hand away from her mouth.

“Bah…you’re as bad as Father, sometimes,” she snapped. He merely smiled with brotherly tolerance and ruffled her dark hair.

“Tell that great ox to be silent and stop thinking with his biceps!” Vurkanan suddenly snapped out loud, startling both Aurora and Lyre. He smirked in apology when they looked at him in confusion. “Bit of an argument between them…Nicolas wishes to go in from the front gates of the city, because he thinks they might get lost if they sneak in over one of the side walls or the back. I did not mean to speak out loud.”

Lyre laughed, “Well, that sounds like Nick. Were it left up to him, he would probably march right up to the gates in full armor and demand they hand Valamir over to him. Sneaking about like ‘thieves’ is probably rankling his sense of honor enough as it is.”

Aurora seated herself on the railing and rolled her eyes. “Right you are. Nick and his ‘honor’…feh! He and that Elder are perfect for each other.”

* * *

 

“We have to take every precaution, Nick!” Hissed Morgan as he kept hold of his brother’s sleeve to keep him from barreling in through the front gate, “What do you think would happen if they saw their gates opening and closing by themselves! Calm down and think rationally, for the love of the gods!”

Nicolas closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. His brother was right, of course…he hadn’t thought of that. He was so anxious just to see Valamir again that he could barely think straight! “Sorry…I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized in a whisper.

Morgan gave him an understanding pat on the arm. Love made men do stupid things…he knew that better than most. If it were he and Aurora in this situation, he doubted that he would be thinking much more clearly than his brother. “It’s nothing. Just follow my lead, all right? I’ll take us to a less heavily patrolled area, that should put us closer to the middle of the city and Valamir’s home.”

Nicolas nodded silently. Of course, the Head Elder’s home would be in the center of Vartros. It made sense. He only hoped that the borrowed knowledge in his brother’s head would be sufficient enough to get them safely there and back out again. He glanced at the high walls of the city and gritted his teeth. Valamir was heavy with child…he hadn’t considered the trouble they might have getting the Elder over those walls. Of course, he hadn’t known that Vartros was so well protected, either. He could only trust in Morgan’s magic, and assume the Bargel had some sort of spell that would ease Valamir’s passage. Normally, Nicolas was an expert tactician, but his feelings were getting in the way of rational thought. He was suddenly very glad to have someone along who could help him think straight.

They circled the circumference of the outer walls until Morgan found a spot that was only guarded by one Lashran. “There,” he mouthed as he stopped his brother and pointed to the wall. Nicolas nodded in understanding, and they both moved as quietly as they were able to. Once they were at the base of the wall, Nick let out a soft curse. “What is it?” questioned Morgan in a whisper.

“The rope and grappling hook,” the knight responded with a look of supreme irritation, “They aren’t going to be invisible once I toss them over the wall, are they?”

Morgan winced. He hadn’t thought of that. The guard would certainly know that something was amiss once he passed by the area and saw the rope attached to the wall. He racked his brain for a solution that wouldn’t result in him expending energy he needed to conserve on spells. “Vurk? We’ve run into a small problem,” he telepathically contacted the other sorcerer.

“What is it?” Came the concerned reply.

“We have to get over the wall, and to do that we either have to use a rope and grappling hook or levitate. I don’t want to cast any more spells unless I have to…in case we need my magic to defend ourselves if we’re caught.”

For a moment, there was no answer as the lashran contemplated. Morgan began to fiddle nervously as he waited for Vurkanan’s reply, and he breathed easier when he said, “Aurora thinks that you should wait until the guard is walking away to attach the rope. Nicolas should ascend first and subdue the guard.”

Morgan frowned. It wasn’t exactly the answer he was hoping for, but it would have to do. “Alright, we will try that,” he replied reluctantly. He whispered the plan in his brother’s ear, and Nick nodded briefly.

“I believe I can do that,” the knight said with all confidence, “stay here and wait for my signal.”

Morgan nodded in understanding and waited while his brother moved further to the left and waited for the guardsman to turn away. Once the lashran was close to the other side of his assigned post, Nicolas began to swing the grappling hook to gain momentum. Morgan held his breath as the knight tossed the hook high, and he let it out in relief when it landed where it was intended with a slight “clink!” The Bargel prayed that the lashran guard was far enough away that his sharp sense of hearing wouldn’t pick up on the sound.

Nicolas gave the rope a firm tug to secure the hook, then waited a moment to see if the guard noticed the noise it made. When the lashran continued his measured pace, the knight quickly scaled the wall and crept up behind him as quickly as he could. At the last moment, the guard sensed Nick’s approach and turned around with an alarmed expression on his features. His eyes were confused as he saw nobody to account for the light footsteps that he heard. Just as his hand was reaching for the weapon at his hip, Nicolas punched him directly in the temple, and he crumpled against the invisible knight soundlessly.

Nicolas eased him down to the ground and waved to his brother to come up. The knight frowned as he noticed the odd weapon that the lashran had been reaching for. It was holstered at his hip, and at first Nick had thought it was a musket. When he drew it out of the holster he was both puzzled and alarmed. The weapon was certainly not of human manufacture. It was far more advanced than the firearms he was familiar with. The barrel was thicker than a musket’s, and instead of a normal holding chamber for ammunition, he found what appeared to be a glass vial full of glowing blue liquid. “What in the hells?” He muttered softly as Morgan struggled up the rope.

“What are you waiting for?” Morgan said with a nervous look around. When his brother didn’t answer, he came up beside the crouching knight and looked over his shoulder. “What is that?”

Nicolas shook his head. “I’ve no idea. Some sort of Lashran weapon that I’ve never seen before. I think that we should put it in the pack and take it with us. Vurkanan or Valamir might be able to tell us more about it.”

Morgan agreed. The weapon looked to be far more advanced than human weapons, and if the lashran were producing these en mass, it was important that they learn about them. He didn’t think that Nandar would start and all-out war against Avras, but things were strained, and Bakarus now held the Council’s ear. They packed the weapon up carefully and dropped the rope over the other side of the wall. “Once we get down, we should stay between the housing as much as possible, to be safe,” said Morgan, “I should be able to get us to Valamir and Bakarus’ home fairly easily.”

Nicolas nodded and tried to calm the thundering of his heart. The closer they came to fulfilling their goal, the giddier he became. He thought back on his training and forced himself to become as detached as possible. Discipline was the key, here. He could not let his heart interfere with his head, if they were to get out of this unscathed.

* * *

 

Valamir stood on the balcony of the bedroom he shared with his mate and considered his options. Three days ago, Bakarus had received a message from Traskan. The mission to capture Lythallendar and Lyre had failed, and Bakarus was infuriated by the message that Tsabrak had left for him. Valamir had hidden his relief at the news well…or so he thought. He had rubbed his mate’s shoulders and murmured, “Let us just be thankful that there weren’t more losses. Our people are too few, as it is.”

Then there was that horrible moment when Bakarus had turned and looked into his eyes and said, “That is why we must retrieve Lythallendar and his son. Before they can spread their offspring further, without our supervision! Lythallendar’s bloodline could provide great gifts or great strife to our people!” There was madness in his eyes.

“What do you mean, Bakarus?” questioned Valamir with rising concern, “How can one hybrid possibly be so important that you would rather see him enslaved than live his own life?”

“I discovered something shortly after we first exiled the hybrid,” explained the head Elder, “Unfortunately, by the time I considered testing my theory, Lythallendar was already gone, and I could not determine where in the Human lands he was taken to. When he returned to us, I examined the sample of his fluids that we took and found my suspicions to be correct.”

Warily, Valamir asked, “What suspicions? What did you discover?”

Bakarus went silent and stared at him for a long time…so long that Valamir had to fight the urge to look away. Then a strange smile began to curve the sire’s lips, and he said, “Ah, I think I understand how the outcasts were able to defeat our attempts, now.” His hand reached out and stroked Valamir’s bright hair, and his smile widened; though there was no humor in it. “They could not have known our plans…not so well that they could have stopped our men so completely. Even if they suspected that we might try to collect them, they had no way of knowing when we would come. I think that I have you to thank for that, my deceitful butterfly.”

Valamir kept his calm with trained precision and inquired, “What makes you think that I could possibly have anything to do with our men’s mission being defeated? Is your confidence in their abilities so supreme that you cannot accept the possibility that Tsabrak and Lythallendar were simply clever enough to defend themselves?”

Bakarus scowled at him and pulled his hair painfully, making him wince. “They would have to have been able to look into the future and see it coming, to have defeated some of our best soldiers so easily! Somehow, they were warned. Somehow, you got word to them. Your misplaced compassion could cause the ruination of us all!” He let go of Valamir’s hair with a shove that caused the lifebearer to stumble.

Valamir looked at Bakarus as if he were a stranger. His wide, deep violet eyes were full of pity and sadness as he said, “This is going too far, Bakarus. I do not know where these paranoid delusions are coming from, but it is clear to me that you are suffering from a kind of madness. I shall take this before the Council and propose that you be removed from the reigning seat, until this illness has passed.”

Bakarus’ eyes narrowed hatefully, and he advanced on his mate with his fist curled up. “I will not have you disrespecting me so, Valamir. If I must beat you into submission, I will do so!”

For a moment, Valamir couldn’t believe that Bakarus would actually attempt to strike him…especially given that he was heavy with child. Then the head elder’s fist swung out, and Valamir’s old training came back instantly. Both lashran were shocked when Valamir blocked his mate’s strike and returned it with a force that sent Bakarus reeling. Valamir stared at his mate, then at his own hand. He had jerked to the side and grabbed Bakarus’ wrist at the last moment, then chopped his other hand at the sire’s unprotected throat. His hand didn’t even hurt from the blow, though Bakarus was coughing painfully and holding his neck. Valamir still held his mate’s wrist in an iron grip.

“H-how dare…you,” wheezed Bakarus as he struggled to stand and release his wrist. He had forgotten…Valamir was trained in combat, just like his children had been. During the Great Wars, the lashran had several different specialty teams-each trained to hone their abilities to perfection. Some were trained to be assassins, some were trained to use the polarized cannons that had been lost over the years.

Some, like Valamir, were trained exclusively in unarmed combat. Valamir had never seen combat because the Elders decided that it was no longer necessary to risk lifebearers in battle, but his skills had not vanished with the need for him to join the fight. Bakarus himself had been trained as a cannon user. Though he had some melee skills, as all Lashran soldiers must, his were not as extensive as his mate’s was.

“You not only throw wild accusations at me, but you attempt to strike me as well?” Countered Valamir as he released his mate’s wrist, “Of course, I am going to defend myself and the unborn child I carry from your violence!”

Bakarus spoke in a raw voice, “I was not intending to harm the child. My intention was to discipline you, but I can see that you have something to hide by your refusal to accept punishment! You are not to leave this room. I shall have guards posted at the door, and you will be a dutiful mate to me each and every night! When my son is born, I will decide whether it is worth the risk to keep you or not. Pray for exile, my little traitor!”

Valamir stood stunned, unable to think of anything to say in response to the threat he had just been issued. Satisfied that his mate was sufficiently cowed by his statement, Bakarus gathered his dignity and left the room, calling for the guards as he did so. Valamir heard his mate giving them orders and explaining that he was “Unstable in his thoughts, and should not be allowed out for his own protection”. The lifebearer slowly walked to the bed and sank down on it, in a daze. Of course they would listen to the Head Elder over him. Everyone knew that during pregnancy, some lifebearer’s emotions ran high and affected their thinking.

And so, here he was, three days later. Trapped in his own bedroom, prisoner to his own bondmate. Valamir rubbed the extended mound of his belly in long, slow circles as he felt his offspring move within him. “I will not let them separate us, little one. Do not worry,” he soothed. Whether his words were meant to reassure his child or himself, he could not say. A part of him could not believe that Bakarus would exile him or worse.

Valamir was quite aware of how much his mate desired him. It was not love so much as a fierce possessiveness that drove the Bakarus. He looked at Valamir as a trophy, and he would not so willingly part with him. Valamir thought that it was more likely for Bakarus to use their child against him. Once the little one was born, the Head Elder could blackmail his mate into begging forgiveness and becoming the docile mate that he wanted him to be. Another part of Valamir worried that Bakarus was indeed mad enough to carry through with his plan. Either way, the future was very bleak, indeed.

With a heavy sigh, Valamir turned around and started to go back into the room. The only option left to him was to give up his pride and regain his mate’s trust. He lost his previous children in the wars. He could not bear to lose this one as well. He would ask forgiveness of Bakarus tonight, when he came in to retire.

Since their fight, Bakarus stayed out late and drank more heavily than was proper. Valamir felt that Bakarus thought he loved him in his own way, and it was likely that he was in pain from the ordeal. Making amends was the only way to solve the problem…the only option that Valamir had, short of trying to escape. He knew he could not possibly do that…not in his condition. Were he in the early stages of his pregnancy, he might have a chance.

Discovering that his old training wasn’t dead in him had given him confidence and filled him with despair at the same time. If he could have foreseen this happening sooner, he might have called upon those skills to get him out of Nandar, away from this madness. He could not serve his people like this.

With those thoughts came the memory of Nicolas and his questioning whether Valamir would leave his people if given the chance. Tears gathered in the Elder’s eyes as he lovingly envisioned the handsome knight’s face. “I should have left with him,” he whispered into the night.

As he began walking back into the room, his ears picked up the faint sound of someone grunting behind him. Valamir whirled and prepared himself to go into a defensive stance. It all came so easily to him now…as if it had only been yesterday that he completed his training, instead of nearly three thousand years ago. Of course, up until now, he had never felt the need to use his training. He had never been in such peril before, and now it seemed like every shadow was a malignant force out to get him. Valamir stared hard at the balcony, certain that he had heard someone there. There was no visible sign of anyone. After a few tense moments, the Elder began to relax, convinced that his fear and sorrow had worked up his imagination.

He nearly swallowed his teeth when he heard a deep, masculine voice whisper, “Valamir?” from the balcony. There was still no visible sign of anyone there.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The Elder said in a raspy voice. He could call the guards. Whoever it was that was in the room with him had obviously used some sort of magic. However, the Elder recognized that the tone of the voice was gentle, and it was not so much asking if he was Valamir as it was trying to reassure him. There was also something distinctly familiar about the voice, but the lifebearer didn’t want to let his hopes override his common sense.

“’Tis Nicolas. Don’t be alarmed.”

Valamir’s breath left his body as though he had been hit in the stomach, and he suddenly felt light-headed. “I must be dreaming this,” the Elder murmured, “how can you be here? You cannot use magicks!”

He started as a warm, glove-encased hand settled on his arm. The speaker’s breath fanned his face as the voice replied, “You aren’t dreaming. My brother, Morgan, is here with me. We came to get you out of this place.”

Valamir felt his knees going weak, and Nicolas seemed to sense it. The paladin’s arms went around his waist, and Valamir was suddenly resting his cheek against a hard, unseen chest. “I won’t force you to come with us,” the longed-for voice said softly, “if you can tell me, without flinching, that you are happy here and are actually able to do some good for your people, I shall leave.”

Valamir shook his head and clung to the invisible form holding him. “No…do not leave me! I am not happy here, and I can no longer help my people. I am a prisoner now, Nicolas. My mate had threatened to separate me from our child, once he is born.”

There was a pause as Nicolas absorbed this, and the next voice that spoke did not belong to the knight, but to his sorcerer brother. “Then, this Bakarus is truly a monster! We should all get out of here immediately!”

Valamir smiled slightly, feeling strength return to his limbs with the realization that he was no longer alone. “Yes, you are quite right. However, I cannot see either of you. Could you…perhaps…?” He let the question trail off, certain that his point was made.

Morgan took the hint. “Ah, I’m sorry. I shall work the spell on you now, so that you are invisible as we are.” With that said, he chanted softly while Valamir patiently waited. Once the Elder faded out, he could see his rescuers.

“My goodness…what has happened to your face?!” He said in startlement, reaching up to delicately trace Nick’s painted jaw, “If you had been visible, I might have attacked you out of sheer fright!”

Nicolas smiled slightly. “Aurora’s idea…in case Morgan’s magic failed for some reason. I wish that we had time to properly camouflage you as well, but we must make haste.”

Valamir could not agree more.

* * *

 

They made it to the wall, where they came in, before it was discovered that Valamir was missing. It was quite clear that either Bakarus or one of the guards had gone in to check on Valamir and saw that he was gone, for the activity in the streets increased dramatically. Nicolas pressed the Elder against the wall and shielded him with his body as a troop of guards ran by. Over the din of noise, they could hear Bakarus shouting something in lashran. “What does he say?” Whispered Nicolas.

Valamir was pale, but composed as he answered, “He is ordering them to block every street and search every home. It seems that he believes I have gone to someone within the city for help.”

Nick and Morgan exchanged grimly amused glances. “Good. His assumption should buy us some much needed time to get you out of here.” He looked up, and hissed a curse. The guard that he had knocked out earlier was awake and sitting on the ramparts, speaking to another lashran who was apparently his superior. “I should have bound him and hidden him somewhere,” Nicolas murmured softly. Now they might suspect that the attack on the guard had something to do with the missing Elder.

Valamir frowned in dismay. “I would say that we could attempt to escape through the aqueduct system, but Bakarus would expect that of me. We shall have to either find another place to go over the wall or think of some other way out.”

Morgan sucked his teeth in thought. There was a way to get out quickly, but it wasn’t without its risk. He could attempt to teleport them a few yards out from the walls. He was confident that he could do it, though it would leave him very drained. The problem was, once they teleported the invisibility spell would drop, leaving them quite visible to anyone who happened to be in the area. “Perhaps,” he said in a bare whisper, “I could attempt to teleport us directly to the ship.”

Valamir looked quite concerned over that. “I am assuming that your ship is far from here, young sorcerer. If Human magicks are anything like Lashran, the strain of bringing us that far could very well kill you.”

Morgan nodded. “Aye, but if I teleport us to a spot too close to the city walls, we could be spotted. The displacement of our bodies will end the invisibility spell I’ve got on us.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Displacement, you say? Not that I’ve ever had any difficulties from your teleport spells, but isn’t that a bit risky for Valamir, given his current condition?”

Morgan winced. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right…it might damage his baby. I’d rather not take that risk.”

Valamir said, “Neither would I. Follow me. I believe I can take us to a safer area to conduct this. It is near the back of the city.”

They quickly made their way behind the Elder, sticking tightly to the wall. Nicolas supposed that Valamir’s pregnant state was actually working for them, for Bakarus might have concentrated on increasing security on the walls if he thought the lifebearer could scale them on his own. The knight could only hope that word didn’t get back to the Head Elder about the incident with the guard and his missing weapon before they could get safely out of the city. He now wished that he hadn’t taken that weapon, regardless of how useful it might prove to learn about it. If he had left it alone, it could have been assumed that the guardsman hit his head and hallucinated that an invisible force attacked him.

As they drew closer to their destination, Nicolas noticed that the back part of the city wasn’t as well kept as the front and middle. Though still in much better shape than any Human city’s poor section would be, it was clear they were entering the “slums”. The paint on the buildings was cracking, as was the pavement. Weeds could be seen sprouting through the fractures in the streets. For some reason, he hadn’t expected the lashran to have such an area in their city. They seemed so advanced and cultured, it was odd to find that some of their citizens were not as well off as others.

“Here,” said Valamir softly, pointing up at the wall.

“I’ll be damned,” Morgan said in genuine surprise. There wasn’t a guard in sight.

“The patrol is loose in this part of the city,” explained the elder with a rueful smile, “they still have the back gates heavily guarded, but they do not bother as much with the walls. I’ve always told Bakarus that one, day a hoard of rampaging humans could come over the walls here and pillage us. I never thought that his arrogance in dismissing my concerns would prove so useful.”

Nicolas chuckled lightly at the irony. Part of Valamir’s prediction was coming true. Though far from a hoard, there were now two “rampaging humans” using the poorly guarded wall to spirit the Head Elder’s mate away.

“Well now, we’d better get over it before Bakarus decides he should send more security this way,” Nicolas said, nodding towards his brother meaningfully.

“All right. I’ll stick to my original plan. I will levitate Valamir up and over the wall, and then you and I can scale it with rope,” said the wizard.

“That is a sound plan,” agreed Valamir. He gave both brothers a soft, apologetic look and added, “I wish that I could be less trouble for the two of you.”

Nicolas took Valamir’s hand and squeezed it briefly. “We are more trouble to ourselves than you are. It’s worth the risk, to get you safely out of here and free.”

“We’d better hurry,” muttered Morgan nervously, “I hear armor clinking. Someone is coming!”

Indeed, they could hear Lashran voices and the light clanking of their armor, coming from the street behind them. One of the approaching Lashran made an exclamation that made both Valamir and Morgan’s expression instantly alarmed and dismayed. “What? What did he say?” asked Nicolas impatiently.

“There is a sorcerer among them, and he is using his magicks to track me. I should have thought of this before we set out!” Valamir hissed.

“There’s still time. I’ll work an obscuring on you as soon as we get over the wall. It will only take a moment to enact the levitation spell, but the obscuring will take a bit longer, and I don’t wish to wait around and see if I can pull it off before they catch up with us.” Morgan suggested.

When Valamir and Nicolas nodded, the Bargel whistled three soft notes and made a rising gesture with his hands. Valamir’s feet left the ground and he slowly levitated upwards. Morgan launched himself into the spell, trying to work as quickly as he could without rushing it to a point where he would lose his concentration. Valamir was the picture of calmness as unseen forces lifted him up and over the wall. “Don’t drop him!” Cautioned Nicolas nervously as the Elder descended out of their line of site.

Morgan threw his brother an irritated look as if to say, “Who is the magic user here, you or I?” And then the Bargel gently set Valamir down on his feet on the other side of the wall.

“Done. Let’s go!” Whispered Morgan. They had mere moments before the troupe heading their way would be within visual range, and if that happened, they might see the grappling hook and rope on the wall.

Nicolas needed no further urging. Luck was not with him on the first throw, and the grappling hook clattered to the ground. Both brothers winced, and by the sounds of it, the approaching lashran heard the noise; for the sound of their footsteps increased in speed. “Oh gods, please get it this time,” gasped Morgan as sweat rolled down his brow. He was tempted to throw caution into the wind and take the time to levitate himself and his brother over the wall, even if it meant draining himself further. Nicolas breathed a silent prayer and tried again. This time the hook caught, and he pulled firmly to wedge it into place.

“Up you go,” he said, hooking his hands together and lowering them to give his brother a boost. Morgan didn’t argue. It made sense to have him go up first, as he was the lightest of the two and if he slipped, Nick’s greater strength might hold them both up. He ascended as quickly as he could, relieved that he didn’t slip. Nicolas easily scaled the wall next, and when he reached the top he tossed the rope down the other side and looked down at Valamir, who was staring up at them anxiously. Nicolas gave him a little smile to show they were fine, and then he descended.

Morgan glanced over his shoulder into the city before grasping the rope to go down, and he paused at the sight of the blue-white, glowing globes that the lashran were carrying like torches. The wizard in him was fascinated and would have liked to try to snag one to study, but the part of him that was more interested in living urged him on.

He got into too much of a hurry and slid the last twelve feet or so, and if he hadn’t been wearing gloves, his palms would have been a raw, bloody mess. He winced when he landed and shook his hands. The material on his gloves was worn down to the threads. “What about the rope?” he asked when his brother grabbed his arm and (more gently) did the same to Valamir to lead them away.

“Leave it…we have no time. We must get further away so that you will have time to work your spell.” Answered the paladin hurriedly. Morgan didn’t think that was a good idea, but he could hear the lashran on the other side of the wall. They were momentarily confused, for the divination still said that Valamir was straight ahead, but they couldn’t understand how a lifebearer heavy with child could have gotten over the high wall so quickly.

They stopped when they reached the more heavily forested area outside of the city, and Morgan immediately began to work his spell. Valamir was breathing heavily, but he didn’t complain or show signs of cramping, which made Nick sigh in relief. The Elder gave Nicolas a half-panicked look when they heard rustling at the edge of the forest, and the knight took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. They could both tell when the spell went off, for the voice they had heard earlier guiding the others gave an exclamation of puzzlement and dismay, and the rustling ceased.

Morgan collapsed to his knees and panted, “That’s it…I’m finished. I can’t cast another spell until I’ve gotten some rest.”

Nicolas helped his brother to stand up, and then he guided his small group further into the forest, hoping that Morgan’s link with Vurkanan would prove of some use to get them safely back to the ship without getting lost.

* * *

 

“They’ve got Valamir, but they are being pursued,” Said Vurkanan.

The others looked at each other for a moment, and then Aurora seemed to arrive at a decision. Lyre watched his sister in puzzlement as she suddenly started towards the hatch leading below deck. “What are you doing?” He called after her.

“Being prepared,” was the reply.

Vurkanan’s silver eyes followed the young woman as she went down, and he turned to his lover and said, “It must be something good, if she’s in such a hurry.”

Lyre shook his head. “I wouldn’t precisely say that. Coming from Aurora, that could mean she’s getting ready to charge out and find them herself. I’d better go and check on her.”

Vurkanan nodded and turned his attention back to the problem at hand. He could sense Morgan’s whereabouts because of their link, but he had to get his bearings and actually look _through_ the other wizard’s eyes in order to guide him towards the ship. “Hold fast, Morgan. It should only be a moment or two,” he said to the exhausted young man.

Meanwhile, Lyre had descended into the lower deck and discovered that Aurora had rushed down to the engine room. “Ah, so she’s finally begun to think with her wits rather than her fists,” he thought as he made his way there. Aurora’s fighting strategies were good, but he would personally rather concentrate on escaping without a fight…especially since they would have a pregnant lifebearer on board soon. He didn’t let himself think of the possibility that Morgan and the others might get caught before they could make it here.

“What are you planning, ‘Rora?” Lyre questioned when he found his sister in the engine room, looking over the boilers with a thoughtful expression.

“I’m thinking we should have some extra men down here to fire these boilers up to maximum when the others get close enough. I’m also thinking we should arm the cannons and be ready for a fight. I’ll need the men assembled on top deck so I can assign positions to them.”

Lyre stared at his sister for a moment. He wasn’t used to her acting this responsibly, and she was so much like their Sire right now that it made an ache rise in his chest. He was seeing more of Coren Darshaw emerge in Aurora with each passing day. “Consider it done,” he managed to say.

* * *

 

“We have to turn north a bit,” rasped Morgan, who was practically being dragged by his more powerful brother. The leaves of large, tropical plants smacked them in the face as they rushed through the forest, and they could barely see where they were going. They could not risk a light of any sort. Nicolas stopped for a moment to gather his bearings, then faced them towards the north, as his brother said.

“How much longer will this invisibility spell last?” Nicolas questioned.

“An hour or so…no longer than that. We should be able to make it to the ship by then,” replied Morgan. “We do need to hurry, though. I can feel that other sorcerer trying to break through the obscuring I’ve worked on Valamir, and I’m not certain that it will last much longer. We have to get out of their range.”

“We will. Come on,” urged the knight. He didn’t say anything, but he was amazed at Valamir’s stamina. He reflected for a moment on the feel of the hard, lean muscles of the Elder’s arm as he took it and guided him, and Nicolas thought of the stance he had seen Valamir fall into when he had detected the knight’s presence in his room. As out of character as it seemed, Nick realized that even in his pregnant state, Valamir was in better shape than Morgan was. While the sorcerer gasped and wheezed for breath, the Elder kept the pace stoically, and his breath came no faster than Nick’s did

They began to outpace their pursuit. Though the lashran had trackers searching for them, it was difficult to pick the trio’s path in the dark. The search parties began to lag behind, and Valamir grew pale. “What is it?” Huffed Nicolas.

“I believe they have gathered more sorcerers to try and locate me,” he breathed, “I can feel an invisible weight bearing down upon me.”

Nicolas looked at Morgan, who confirmed it with a grim nod. “It won’t be long now before they break through my obscuring. Once they do, they’ll be able to track Valamir easily.”

“Then we must make sure that we’re on the boat when that happens,” Nicolas said simply.

They made good headway and reached the cove without incident. “Where is your ship?” asked Valamir in confusion. Because it had been Vurkanan who cast the invisibility illusion on the ship and not Morgan, the spell that allowed the trio to see one another did not allow them to see the Swordfish.

“It’s there,” replied Morgan, “I just have to let Vurk know that we’re coming.”

Mere moments after he said this, the Swordfish became visible. It was hard for Valamir to describe what he was seeing, though magic was nothing new to him. The ship actually seemed to “bleed” into existence. It was like watching fog dissipate in reverse. The boarding plank was already lowered and ready for them.

“Ah hell…they’ve broken through,” grunted Morgan as they started off towards the ship. They could hear shouts in the distance as those who were searching for them redirected their parties.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nicolas said stubbornly, “We’ll be on board in a few moments, and Vurkanan will reactivate his illusion. They won’t be able to see us or even hear our engines as we depart.”

Morgan was comforted by his brother’s words, and he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Once they were on board, the crew quickly brought the boarding plank back in and Vurkanan reactivated his spell. Aurora approached the three of them with a huge grin on her face. “You lads look pretty awful,” she said.

“You try sneaking in and out of a Lashran city and running for your life through a rainforest, and we’ll see how wonderful you look afterwards,” said Morgan hoarsely. They all quieted as lights began to bob and weave through the forest.

“They’re tracking Valamir through divination,” explained Morgan quickly when he saw the alarmed looks on his friends’ faces, “We must get out of their range and safely away from Nandar.”

“Right,” Aurora said with a nod. She then turned around and began to give orders to her waiting crewmen. They conveyed her orders to those below, and so on and so forth, until the men in the engine room and those at the cannons received them. Once the engines began to chug, she turned to Vurkanan. “Can you obscure him?” she asked, pointing to the exhausted Elder.

Vurkanan sighed and shook his head. “Not here, so close to them. They would sense any magicks I try to use, and I dare not try it with so many sorcerers among them. Once we are out to sea, I can do it safely.”

Morgan was about to make a reply to that, but the young Bargel suddenly clutched his head in his hands and screamed in agony. “Morgan! What’s wrong?” cried Aurora as he fell to his knees and began to convulse.

Vurkanan pushed her aside and knelt beside the stricken young man. Morgan had bitten his tongue in his spasms, and blood spurted from his mouth as he cried out again. “I was afraid of this,” Vurkanan said shakenly, “One of their sorcerers was finally able to detect where the magic they sensed was coming from! They are attacking him, trying to trap his mind! This could kill him!”

Seeing what was happening to this brave young Human, Valamir came to a decision. “I shall surrender. They may stop this if I ask them to,” he said.

He was surprised when Aurora grabbed the material of his robes and shook him angrily. “No, you will not bloody-well surrender! That bastard mate of yours wouldn’t keep any promises he makes regarding us!”

“But how do we fight this?!” Hollered Nicolas helplessly.

Aurora stepped back from the Elder and collected herself as best she could. To her crew, she said, “Fire the cannons into the forest, where those lights are coming from!”

As they rushed to comply, Lyre suddenly went stiff. “Vurk, what’s happening to your shield? Are you doing that?!” he pointed wildly over the deck, where the translucent bubble that encased them began to dissolve.

The Lifebearer slowly stood, and his silver eyes were round with horror. “Hold onto something…this is going to be bad,” He said through bloodless lips.

* * *

 

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Lyre barely had time to bear Vurkanan down to the deck and cover him with his body. Just as the sorcerer finished warning everyone to hold onto something, a bolt of energy shot out from the direction of the forest, where their persuers were. It hit the side of the ship with the force of a cannon and rocked the Swordfish. Either the gods took pity on them, or they were very lucky, for none of the crew fell overboard and the damage wasn’t very serious…yet. Lyre looked at Morgan and felt panic rising within him. The Bargel had ceased his screaming, but now it appeared that he was choking on his own tongue.

“He’s having seizures,” Nicolas said in a carefully controlled voice. The knight removed the belt from around his waist and pried his brother’s clenched jaw open, then fit the belt between his teeth. Valamir stroked the young man’s hair soothingly and cradled his head, so that Morgan wouldn’t bang his head on the deck with his violent movements.

One of the crewmembers scrambled across the deck to Aurora and yelled, “Miss, the cannons are ready! Do we fire now?”

“Hell, yes!” She answered, her hand tightly entwined with Morgan’s clenched one.

He made his way back to convey the message as quickly as he could, and Aurora lowered her lips to Morgan’s ear to murmur, “Just hold on, Morgan. We’re getting you out of here. Don’t let them take you!”

* * *

 

At the same time, another continent away, Tsabrak awoke from a dead sleep with a hitching gasp. He sat up straight and stared sightlessly forward with wide, amber eyes.

Lythas mumbled as the commotion woke him up, and the Lifebearer propped himself onto his elbows and looked at his mate in concern. “Tsabrak? What is the matter?”

The sire worked at calming his breathing, and he shook his head. “It’s nothing, beloved. Just a nightmare.” He smiled at Lythas and kissed him softly on the lips.

“You are certain you will be alright?” inquired Lythas dubiously.

“Of course. I think I shall go downstairs and have a brandy. ‘Twill help me get back to sleep.”

Lythallendar stared at him with penetrating, emerald eyes a moment longer, then blinked and yawned. “Very well, Tsab,” he said sleepily, and then he rose and kissed him lingeringly before lying back down again and closing his eyes.

Tsabrak ran his fingers through his tumbled, silver hair and shivered. The psychic scream that had awoken him still reverberated in his mind. The link that he shared with Morgan was still fresh enough for the two of them to communicate, and the lad’s desperate cry for help was loud enough that it had seemed like he was standing in the bedroom, shouting it. Tsabrak swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He absently grabbed his robe from the hanger on the wall and covered his nudity with it before opening the door and heading downstairs.

He immediately went into the study and closed the door, then sat at the desk and reclined in the chair, closing his eyes. He slowed his breathing and concentrated on going into a trance. Once he successfully did so, he reached out with his senses to locate Morgan. Tsabrak hissed when he found the lad, for Morgan’s agony pulsed out from him in waves and assailed the sire as well. “Morgan, what’s happening to you, lad?” Tsabrak asked in the calmest voice he could.

The reply was weak and trembling with pain. “N-Nan…dar,” Morgan’s mental voice moaned, “Attacking…me. T-taking…me…”

Tsabrak’s blood ran cold at the implications of that little bit of information. He didn’t waste time asking what in bloody hells the younglings were doing near Nandar, for he already had a suspicion, and Morgan was quickly losing the battle. There was a way that Tsabrak could help, even from this distance. The lashran who were attacking Morgan weren’t the only ones who knew how to manipulate astral energy.

“Morgan, listen to me. Focus on my aura and let it give you strength. I need you to hold on long enough for me to send a manifestation through the link we share. Can you do that for me?” Tsabrak said gently, speaking as he would to a frightened, ailing child.

Morgan’s aura throbbed weakly, the white-hot ropes of energy connected to it tugging insistently. “Aye…I will…try, sir.”

Tsabrak forced himself to stay calm. The odds were that all of the younglings were in trouble, but all that he could do was attempt to stop those who were trying to capture Morgan’s spirit. He would have to trust them to get out of the physical part, themselves. The most difficult part was opening his eyes and moving his physical body without losing his trance-state and his connection to Morgan. The sire grunted and snarled inwardly, reaching for the letter opener on the desk. Once he had it in his grasp, he slowly pulled the sleeve of his robe up on his other arm, exposing his bronze skin. Steeling himself, he made a shallow cut in his inner forearm, just enough to make blood well.

Then he stood up slowly and turned his arm so that the blood dripped sluggishly onto the floor. Narrowing his golden eyes, Tsabrak focused his will and began to shape the astral energy around him. With painful care, he formed his totem animal; a black panther. By the time he was finished and the spiritual creature sat on its haunches gazing at him patiently, Tsabrak was shaking all over, both physically and psychically. He made his desires known to the animal and sent it through the link as quickly as he could. It wasn’t the same as telling a trained animal what to do. The panther was a manifestation of Tsabrak’s own spirit, and thus had no independent thought of its own.

Tsabrak finally let his breath out in a sigh and collapsed onto the floor. As he began to slip into unconsciousness, he said to Morgan, “Just a bit longer, lad. You should be free soon.”

* * *

 

“Should I cast again, Elder?” questioned the sorcerer who was responsible for dispelling the Swordfish’s shield and firing the energy bolt at it.

Bakarus nodded. “Yes, but do not put your full force behind it. Valamir is on that ship, and I do not wish for him to be killed.”

The wizard nodded and began his slow chant again. Bakarus waved his guards forward and gave the signal for them to be ready to fire their weapons upon the crew, if there was resistance. When they obeyed and began to march forward, he turned to one of the sorcerers who had leashed the invading magic-user’s spirit. “What is your progress?” he questioned.

The younger Sire was sweating, and his expression was strained. “His is strong, Elder. A sudden burst of strength seems to have renewed his efforts against us, but we shall soon have him.”

Bakarus nodded and turned to view the progress of his warriors, who were slowly advancing from the cover of the trees, towards the mouth of the cove. His satisfaction in the proceedings was cut short quite suddenly, for two things happened almost simultaneously. First, one of the sorcerers working on detaining the human magician screamed in terror and pain, then fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Bakarus stared with wide eyes at the huge gash in the wizard’s neck. It appeared to be the work of a large animal, though there was no sign of any beasts around. Another of the sorcerers backpedaled and made warding gestures with his hands, then seemed to be knocked to the ground by an invisible force.

“See to him,” ordered Bakarus of his bodyguards. They tried to help the stricken sorcerers, but there was nothing they could do. Bakarus started to tell the elementalist to cease his casting and find out what was going on, but before he could do so, a series of booms rumbled from the direction of the cove, followed by a whistling noise which grew louder and louder.

“Seek cover!” One of Bakarus’ guards yelled, and he pushed the Elder to the ground and lay atop him protectively. The pitch of the whistling deepened, and suddenly it seemed as if the trees and earth around them were exploding. Men screamed, and many of the soldiers closest to the opening in the trees were tossed through the air. The lashran were absolutely bewildered from the attack. They had never seen a ship turn so swiftly, nor display the firepower that the Swordfish had just demonstrated. The cannon fire ceased for the moment, and those whose ears weren’t ringing could only hear the faint moans of the wounded and dying. Fortunately for them, the attack wasn’t actually focused; it was purely meant to wreak enough havoc to divide them and buy time.

“We should rush them before they can reload, Elder Bakarus!” Suggested the captain of his personal guard.

Bakarus struggled to his feet and held his hand up to command silence. “We do not know how long it will take for them to reload. I have never seen Human engineered cannons fire that quickly, or with that sort of precision. Stay your ground and prepare distance attacks.” He turned to check on his elementalist, and froze. The wizard lay against a tree, and his head tilted at an unnatural angle. He must have been tossed by the impact of one of the cannon balls. His neck was broken, and his eyes stared sightlessly at the night sky. Looking around him, Bakarus could see that the other wizards he had with him were not in much better shape. The wounds caused by whatever force it was that attacked them had vanished almost as quickly as they appeared, but all three were in a dangerous state of shock. One of the medics was moving from one wizard to the next and shaking his head in bemusement.

“Shall I send word to bring the new ion cannons, Elder?” Questioned the captain.

Bakarus’ shoulders slumped. Even he recognized that the danger was very real for them now. The most they could do was assemble an ocean fleet to pursue the vessel, which was turning as they spoke and making odd rumbling sounds. Clouds of steam erupted from the cylindrical towers that replaced sails in the center and back of the ship. The ion cannons were still in their experimental stage, and to risk using them in such a heavily forested area (which was rapidly catching fire from the explosions that the Swordfish sent into it) was far too risky. “No, the ion cannons could only cause more harm than good. I want three warships readied with a full crew, immediately. We shall have to rely on naval pursuit.”

* * *

 

“They’re leaving,” Lyre said with no small amount of relief in his tone, “How is Morgan doing?”

Nicolas swallowed before answering, “He jerked quite suddenly, just before the cannons were fired, and then lay still. His breathing is back to normal and he is no longer seizing, but he’s unconscious.”

Vurkanan decided to take the risk and shift his sight to the astral. “They no longer hold him. Either our cannon fire broke their concentration, or they’ve trapped him. I must calm down and trance deeper, before I can tell for certain.”

Aurora was doing a fine job not to cry, though her hands trembled as they stroked Morgan’s disheveled, dark brown hair from his eyes. “But, I was watching,” she said in a slightly shaken voice, “His body went into that one last twitch before the cannons fired. They’ve gotten him, haven’t they?” Her voice took on a slightly panicked edge, and Lyre put his arm around her.

“We don’t know that for certain. Something else might have happened. Perhaps they saw that we were getting ready to fire and ordered them to stop their assault on him. What do you think, Valamir?” Lyre’s green eyes were faintly pleading as they turned to the Elder.

Valamir gazed down at the young man with a thoughtful expression. “It would seem logical that if they knew an attack was coming, they would take precautions to protect their magic users. Whatever happened, I feel that the attack on the young man’s mind was ceased before it could do permanent damage. We can only hope.”

His words, spoken so calmly and confidently, worked as a soothing balm on their frazzled nerves. “Alright then,” Aurora said, sniffling and wiping her nose carelessly on her sleeve, “Let’s get Morgan below deck so that Vurk can have a look at him. The crew already has their orders to get us to a neutral harbor so that we can assess the damage to the ship. I don’t think it’s bad enough that we’ll sink, but any holes need to get patched up right away.”

Nicolas slipped his hands beneath his brother’s arms and grasped him about the chest, and Lyre took hold of his feet. Together, they lifted Morgan and carried him to the hatch, with the others following closely behind. Aurora told the co-captain to let them know immediately if there were any signs of pursuit. She knew that once they were at a safe enough distance, she should have Vurkanan camouflage the ship again, but her biggest concern for the moment was Morgan. She wasn’t a religious person and didn’t know enough about the Gods to decide which one to pray to for Morgan’s health, so she prayed to all of them and hoped that at least one would listen.

* * *

 

“His mind and spirit are intact.”

When Vurkanan said those words, Aurora literally felt like her legs didn’t exist anymore. She slid bonelessly to the deck beside the bed where Morgan lay and rested her head against the mattress. “Oh, fuck…thank the Gods,” she said huskily.

Nicolas bowed his head and closed his eyes, the only sign of how relieved he was that the knight would give. Valamir smiled and murmured a thankful prayer to the Forests, and Lyre hugged his sister tightly and gave a shuddering sigh of relief. “’Rora, do you want to stay down here with him?” Lyre offered, “I know enough about seafaring to take care of things topside, I think.”

She gave her brother a rueful smirk and shook her raven hair out of her eyes. “I appreciate the thought, but we both know you get lost in a sack. I’m fine, now that I know Morgan’s not going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life.” She then switched her pale blue gaze on Vurkanan and said; “Do you think you can work another shield over the ship? We need every advantage we can get, if they send a fleet after us.”

Vurkanan pondered the matters at hand for a moment. Yes, he could work another shielding, but it would be to little avail now. Bakarus knew that there was at least one magic user on board, and his sorcerer troops were just too powerful for a shielding to stop them for long. They had already proven that at the cove. “I can,” he said slowly, “but I really think my energy would be best reserved to power up the engines and increase our speed. I think that outrunning them is the best option that we have now.”

Aurora cursed and chewed her lip as she racked her brain for another solution. Nicolas had gone quiet, and Lyre wondered what the knight was thinking. He was stroking his chin and staring blankly at the wall. “What about a lie?” He finally said.

They looked at one another in confusion, none of them quite understanding what he was getting at. “A lie?” Said Lyre.

The paladin nodded. “Aye. Or rather, a trick. We could stage it to look like we took more damage from their magical attack than we have, and sink the ship. While they are investigating the wreckage, we can either book passage on another ship heading to Tariff, or buy a small one of our own. A schooner, if we must.”

Valamir chuckled in delight. “That is brilliant! Of course, they will discover the truth eventually, when they find no bodies beneath the waves, but by then we shall be out of their reach and they will not know which ships to watch out for. They wouldn’t dare send an invading force into your pirate city for the sake of retrieving me.”

“Sink Father’s ship?” Aurora said defensively, “But, he worked so hard on the Swordfish! He loves this ship!”

Valamir gazed at the young woman with quiet sympathy rimming his eyes and said; “I am sure that he loves his children more. I know this is a difficult decision to have to make, but I believe that Lythallendar would want you to sink the ship, if it would bring you and Lyre home safely to him.”

Lyre nodded unhappily and murmured, “They’re right, ‘Rora. Our only other hope is that the nearest island settlement would take up arms to protect us, and I don’t think that will happen. Humans are wary enough of lashran as it is in these parts, with trade having been cut off. If a crew of men and four Lashran come to their harbor begging them to risk life and limb against hostile forces, I doubt their answer will be favorable. Our best chance is to purchase a schooner, as Nick suggested, and make our way home from the nearest harbor. It hurts me as well to say goodbye to this ship. She’s a good one.”

Aurora began to angrily wipe tears from her eyes, but the slow drip didn’t cease. “I know…but it’s like having to kill one family member so the rest can survive. Sounds stupid, I guess.”

Nicolas frowned. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all. You and your father have used this ship for years to conduct your business, and I was raised among pirates as well, so I understand the attachment you feel. I wish that it didn’t have to be this way, Aurora.”

She nodded and slowly rose to her feet. Her shoulders slumped as she turned towards the door. “I’ll inform the crew of our plan, so that they can be…ready…to do what we have to do.”

* * *

 

Lythas stretched and yawned, squinting as the morning light beamed in through the window and struck his sensitive eyes. “I should have closed the curtains before going to bed,” he grumbled thickly. He turned over to cuddle against Tsabrak, but found his mate’s side of the bed to be empty. Frowning, he sat up and scratched his head. It was unusual for Tsabrak to wake before he did. Lythallendar had gotten into the habit of waking with the sunrise years ago, and he was normally bathed, dressed and making his plans for the day by the time Tsabrak came down for breakfast.

“Perhaps his nightmare disturbed him more than he let on,” mused the Lifebearer aloud, “or perhaps he fell asleep on the couch in the parlor, or the study.” Still, something didn’t _feel_ right about the whole thing. He decided to skip taking his usual morning hip bath and go downstairs first to look for his Bondmate.

“Tsabrak?” He called softly as he descended the staircase. No answer. He didn’t find the sire sleeping on the couch in the parlor, nor did he find him in the kitchen. He called his name again, a bit louder now out of worry. A muffled groan came from the back of the house, towards the study.

Lythas moved swiftly down the hall and opened the study door, and his green eyes went wide at the sight of his mate lying on the floor, beside the desk. He noticed the small bloodstain on the ornate, imported carpet first, and he quickly knelt beside Tsabrak and checked his hair for any signs of blood. The first thing that he thought of was that Tsabrak had drank too much and tripped, possibly hitting his head on the corner of the desk. After all, the bloodstain was only a few inches from his head.

“Tsab, are you hurt?” Lythas asked with rising concern. He shook his mate’s shoulder gently.

Tsabrak groaned again and rolled over onto his back. His knee struck the leg of the table, and he yelped and grasped it with both hands. “Arrgh…bloody table!”

Lythallendar then saw the shallow cut in Tsabrak’s forearm, which was already closed up and nearly mended. Tsabrak must have gone into a healing trance while he slept, but how did the cut get there in the first place? Then his emerald gaze narrowed as he noticed the letter opener lying a few feet away. The blade had dried blood on it. “What is this all about, Tsabrak?” Lythas questioned, grabbing the letter opener and holding it over his mate’s hazy, amber eyes.

“I…ah…had a bit of an accident,” Tsabrak murmured, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Lythas sighed and helped him to sit up. His fair features were tense as anger began to replace his concern. “You know, when Coren thought that some news would distress me too much, he would attempt to cover it up with lies. I knew he meant well, but they were still lies. I thought that it was his human nature that made him patronize me so, but apparently, it is a trait that sires share as well.”

His words struck home, and Tsabrak lowered his gaze and grimaced. “Now,” continued Lythas, “are you going to be honest with me, or must I investigate this matter for myself and possibly become more angry with you than I already am?” He was beginning to feel his morning sickness coming on, and the dread that was worming its way into his belly wasn’t helping in the least.

Tsabrak recognized that petulant frown that graced his bondmate’s delicate lips, and he sighed. He wasn’t going to get out of this one very easily. “You are right, sweet one. I shouldn’t be hiding things from you. I was only thinking of your health, considering the delicate condition you’re in.”

Lythas huffed impatiently and crossed his arms over his chest. His porcelain features tensed up into the “I’m waiting” expression that warned that his patience was wearing thin.

Tsabrak winced and said, “It wasn’t a nightmare that awoke me last night. It was a cry for help from Morgan.”

Lythas’ expression softened into one of worry, and his skin took on a grey-ish hue. “Do not hold your morning sickness back, beloved. I promise I shall tell you everything after you’ve relieved yourself,” Tsabrak said gently, stroking Lythallendar’s soft curls.

Lythas’ lips parted to say something, but then his eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet and ran to the downstairs privy. The Lifebearer quickly twisted his hair into a makeshift ponytail and tucked it into the back of his robe before bending over the toilet to be sick. Tsabrak came in behind him and rubbed his back, as he always did when these bouts struck Lythas. When the retching spasms ended, Tsabrak ran a cloth under the faucet and dabbed his mate’s mouth and face with it. “Thank you,” Lythas said with a cough.

Tsabrak smiled and kissed his forehead, then sat back on his haunches and regarded him seriously. “Little one, Aurora and Lyre lied. There was no shipment. They took Nicolas to Nandar, to rescue Valamir. I do not know all of the details yet,” he quickly said when Lythas opened his mouth to speak, “but there were sorcerers trying to trap Morgan’s spirit. They’ve apparently become better at dealing with Human magicks than they were before. I wasn’t able to find out how they had ‘leashed’ him, as he was fading fast. My only chance of saving him was to send my totem spirit through the link we share to disrupt the working that the Lashran sorcerers were attacking him with. I haven’t heard anything since then. Of course, I’ve only just woken up from my swoon, so perhaps Morgan was simply unable to reach me.”

The peach tone that normally graced Lythallendar’s smooth skin was completely gone, now. His large green eyes were the only color in his face. “Contact him now, Tsabrak,” he said faintly.

Tsabrak didn’t argue. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and Lythas waited in tense silence. He was heartened when he counted that roughly five minutes had gone past, which probably meant that he was speaking with the young Bargel. Lythas chewed his lip and unconsciously began to bounce his knee rapidly as he waited to hear what was happening.

Finally, the Sire opened his eyes again. His posture relaxed and he smiled reassuringly at Lythas. Lythallendar had to take deep, gulping breaths, for the fear that he had been holding in poured out of his body all at once. Tsabrak took him his trembling mate into his arms and held him tightly. “Shhh, they are fine, beloved. Try to calm yourself, and I’ll explain what happened.”

Lythas nodded and regulated his breathing. He stayed in Tsabrak’s arms as the Sire told him all of the events as Morgan described them, up to now. “The bad news is that they are going to have to sink your ship to buy time,” he finished, “while Bakarus’ men are occupied with searching the wreckage, they will be purchasing a ship to come home on.”

“So long as they come home, I care not,” Lythas said huskily, “and they are going to be in for a serious tongue lashing from me, when they get here! If they needed the help so badly, they should have asked for it!”

Tsabrak smiled and cupped his mate’s chin, forcing his brilliant eyes to look at him. “And what if they had come to us for help? Would you have given them your blessings, or would you have tried to stop them? The thought of them going into danger is very stressful to me as well, Lythallendar, but we must both realize that they are adults now. They make their own decisions, for good or for ill. I expect we may be seeing a Bonding ceremony between my brother and your son, soon. Aurora had acted with uncommonly good sense, and her quick decisions played a big part in keeping them all alive. You’ll only drive yourself mad trying to hold them back, dear one.”

Lythas growled in annoyance and looked away. “I suppose you are correct. I cannot simply turn off my parental instincts, though. Do not forget, you are in trouble for lying to me as well, Tsabrak.”

Tsabrak whistled softly through his teeth and murmured, “I know. I shall have to make it up to you, somehow. What can I do to make my sweet bondmate forgive me?”

Lythas snorted and tossed his head a bit. “You shall have to figure that out on your own.”

Tsabrak grinned.

* * *

 

“What happened?” Morgan muttered as he sat up in the bed. Lyre and Vurkanan smiled brightly at him, happy to see that he was awake.

“We nearly lost you, friend,” Vurkanan replied, “A few more moments and you might have been killed or worse. Bakarus had his magicians attack you psychically, trying to trap your spirit.”

The Bargel paled. “I remember now…that was horrible! Tsabrak came to my aid.”

Lyre furrowed his blond brows and parted his lips. “Tsabrak? How could he have possibly helped you from clear across the ocean? I think you were hallucinating, Morgan.”

Morgan shook his head. “No, I wasn’t. He and I are still linked from when you were all prisoners in Vartros. He must have felt what was happening to me, and he came to me in astral from and sent some kind of manifestation through our link to attack the fellows who were holding me. It must have done some good.”

“A talented sorcerer indeed, your Tsabrak,” commented Valamir, “I am glad that he is on our side.”

Vurkanan snorted. “Tsab isn’t so much powerful as he is wily. He’s been around long enough to learn all of the tricks.”

Out of curiosity, for he still didn’t know much about the Sire who was Bonded with his father, Lyre asked, “Vurk, how old is Tsabrak?”

The sorcerer replied, “He is two hundred-fourteen years old. His birthday is coming up in a couple of months, too. Do not let on that I told you his age, though. He might not thank me for it.”

Valamir looked at Vurkanan in surprise. “Your parents must have had you late in life, young Vurkanan. I cannot imagine you being much older than Lyre.”

Vurkanan blushed and grinned coyly. “Ah well, appearances can be deceiving, you know. I am closer to Lythallendar’s age than Lyre’s. I just don’t act like it.” He paused to chuckle, and the others joined him.

“How old are you, then?” Questioned Morgan with a smirk.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”

“Come now, angel…tell us how old you are. I feel foolish not knowing, myself,” Lyre coaxed.

Unable to refuse his lover anything, the lifebearer sighed and ran his slender fingers through his silvery hair. “Very well. I am ninety-one years old. Yes, our father gave birth to me late in his childbearing years. They nearly lost me, in fact.” Frowning, he wondered again what happened to his parents, and he turned to Valamir and said, “Elder, I know that you came from a different village from Tsabrak and I, but please…have you heard of Sarik and Rialdon? They vanished shortly before the new laws were put into effect, and Tsabrak and I haven’t been able to learn anything of their fate.”

Valamir’s expression became thoughtful. “Those names do sound familiar to me. Let me think for a moment.” Vurkanan waited as patiently as possible as Valamir pondered over the where he had last heard the names of his parents. The elder’s eyes lit up and he said, “Oh yes…I remember. Bakarus spoke of them to me once, for he was concerned with their protests against the breeding laws that the Council was proposing. Now that I think back, I remember that they were concerned for you, Vurkanan. Bakarus said that while they did wish to see you settled happily with a mate, they did not want the decision forced upon you. He said that they mentioned something about you being in a grieving period and that it was unhealthy to rush you into a bond.”

Vurkanan felt as if the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. “Do you know what became of them? All that I could discover was that they left to speak with other villages about the laws.”

Valamir’s expression darkened. “I am sorry, youngling. I wish that I could give you more, but if they were rebelling, there is a chance that they were exiled.”

Nicolas felt coldness settle in the pit of his stomach at the expression on the elder’s face. “They would not arrange for their death over this, would they?”

Valamir opened his mouth to deny it vehemently, but snapped it shut and reconsidered. His people were no longer as they used to be. A few short years ago, imprisonment and execution were unheard of among the lashran, as was rape. Lately, things had changed so much that he could no longer say with certainty what lengths the Council might go through…especially to keep troublemakers quiet.

“It is…unlikely,” he said hesitantly, “I would say that they probably cast them out, if they did anything at all. Of course, something could have happened to your parents in their travels, Vurkanan. There are dangers in the world that could account for them missing as well.”

Vurkanan stared at him for a moment, and his pale eyes went flat and hopeless. The sorcerer knew now, beyond a doubt that his parents were indeed dead. He surely would have sensed their presence by now, otherwise. Even if they were constrained under tight surveillance, some “feeling” of at least one of them would have touched him in his searches. He inherited his magical gifts through his Sire’s side of the family, after all. Sarik’s abilities might have been dormant, but he would have been able to feel his son’s presence, if he were alive.

“Vurk? Please, don’t give up hope yet,” Lyre said softly, putting his arms around his lover’s rigid body, “talk to me.”

“Tsabrak knew it,” Vurkanan said in an aching whisper, “I could see it in his eyes. He accepted their death long ago, but I refused to believe the worst. Gods, I am such a fool!”

Valamir gazed at the distressed sorcerer with sympathy and said, “You are not a fool, Vurkanan. Hoping is never foolish, and it takes a strong person to retain hope for as long as you have. I am truly sorry for your loss, and I wish that there was some way that I could have prevented whatever happened to your parents.”

Vurkanan turned and buried his face against Lyre’s chest. “Not your fault,” he mumbled huskily.

Valamir closed his eyes and bowed his head.

* * *

 

They chose a spot a few miles Southeast of a fishing and trading post, that was between Nandar and Avras. The sun was setting, which would aid their plan. If Bakarus had sent a fleet out to capture them, they would see the glow from the flames and find the wreck of the ship. The lashran would likely search for longer at night, out of the assumption that any bodies would be harder to find in the dark…which gave the fleeing crew of the Swordfish even more time. After loading the crew onto the lifeboats and setting out, Vurkanan manipulated the explosives on board with his magic.

As they rowed away from the flaming, sinking vessel, Aurora stood nimbly in the boat she shared with her friends and brother. She couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled down her cheeks as her father’s beloved ship slowly died before her eyes. “All I can say is this damned well better work!” The young woman said vehemently. Morgan awkwardly stood beside her (his balance wasn’t nearly as good as hers) and put his arm around her supportively.

“I’m sorry that we had to resort to this, Aurora,” Nicolas said gravely.

She shook her head and sniffled. “No…you were right. We have to throw them off our scent. What’s important now is getting back home.” She kissed her fingertips and waved at the Swordfish, bidding it a heartfelt goodbye. Then she sat down beside Lyre and gazed at Nicolas and Valamir somberly. “What do you plan to do, once we reach Tariff? Are you going to live there, or move somewhere else?”

Nicolas and Valamir looked at one another for a moment, both smiling slightly. “We haven’t really discussed it yet,” the knight answered, “I don’t think it would be wise for us to stay in Tariff for an extended amount of time, but I don’t want to travel very far with his baby being so close to being born.”

“We shall decide after we’ve gotten there,” Valamir said, “once the little one has come, and things have settled down. I would very much like to meet Nicolas’ parents and see Lythallendar and Tsabrak again.”

Nicolas placed his hand over Valamir’s hesitantly, almost shyly, and the elder twined his fingers into the paladin’s and squeezed his hand gently. “Yes,” Nicolas said, “Mother will want to meet you. After that, I thought of using the money I’ve been saving to start a breeding ranch for war-horses. We shall see when we get there.”

Valamir lowered his deep violet gaze and murmured, “What will your parents think, I wonder? After all, we come from completely different worlds. Will they not find it strange to see their son involved with a male?”

Morgan grinned and answered before Nick got a chance. “I doubt it. Mother’s known Lythas and Tsabrak for years, and she’s one of the most open-minded people I know. Jahlad is actually our adopted Father, but we think of him as ‘Dad’. He’ll probably have a hundred questions for you about the Lashran. He’s a scholarly type…even more than Lyre and I are.”

Valamir smiled and relaxed. “I never knew that humans were so kind and accepting of others.”

Aurora snorted. “Don’t get the wrong idea and think they’re all like our family, Valamir. We come from a line of mixed breeds, outcasts and pirates…so naturally, we’re going to be a little more understanding of other people than most.”

The elder nodded. “I see,” he murmured, “I shall count myself lucky to have met you all, then.”

Thinking on his words, Lyre smiled crookedly and said, “I don’t think Father’s going to be all that ‘kind and understanding’ when we get back. I wonder if Tsabrak told him what happened, yet?”

Aurora gave her brother a confused look. “What do you mean? Does Tsabrak even know what happened?”

Lyre gave his sister a patient look and replied, “What do you think? He felt what was happening to Morgan and helped him stave off the sorcerers that were trying to trap him. Do you think he’d just work a spell and then forget all about it?”

Aurora turned to Morgan and said, “Has Tsabrak contacted you and asked about it?”

The Bargel resisted the urge to say something sarcastic. Aurora was still agitated and depressed over the destruction of the Swordfish. It would be foolish to expect her to be thinking logically. “Yes, he has. I’m sorry, ‘Rora, but I couldn’t lie to him. I told him everything. I don’t know if he’s spoken to Lythas about it or not.”

Aurora heaved a sigh. “That’s fucking wonderful,” she muttered, “I had a story ready and everything. I was going to say that we ran into a coastal fleet and were outnumbered.”

Lyre decided that anything he might say would only agitate her further, so he contented himself with watching the sunset.

* * *

 

“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” Tsabrak said as he slid into bed beside Lythas. The lifebearer was lying on his side with his back facing the pirate.

“I do not think I need to answer that question,” Lythas said quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t so much angry as he was hurt and frustrated that his mate felt the need to patronize him, as if he were a child.

“Lythas, I am truly sorry for not being honest with you,” Tsabrak murmured. He pulled Lythas’ shiny, black hair aside to expose his neck and shoulder, and he began to kiss the ivory skin. “I was not doing it because I think of you as an inferior person. My protective instincts for you got the better of me, I suppose. I know that you are quite a capable person. Hell, you’re more intelligent than I could ever dream of being! I just worried over what the stress of finding out might do to you in your condition. If you weren’t pregnant, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment to tell you. Please believe me.”

Lythas shivered as Tsabrak’s warm lips caressed his shoulder and neck. His reflective eyes closed and he parted his lips. “This is not fair, Tsab,” he whispered as Tsabrak’s body pressed against his. Neither of them wore clothing to bed, and Lythas could feel every hard line of the sire’s form against his back. He felt his mate’s erection pressing against his bottom, and he sprung to hardness in answer.

Tsabrak grinned and began to work on Lythallendar’s sensitive earlobe. His hand slid along the Lifebearer’s ribcage and around to his stomach. “What isn’t fair, love?” he inquired innocently.

Lythas sucked in a sharp breath as Tsabrak’s palm began to rub his belly in smooth, gentle circles. “You know what you are doing,” the lifebearer said. He had intended to sound firm, but his voice came out husky and wanton sounding.

“Is there something wrong with me touching my mate affectionately?” Tsabrak purred. His teeth caught Lythas’ earlobe and teasingly skimmed it, making the lifebearer unconsciously tilt his head back at an angle and press his bottom against Tsabrak’s manhood.

“You are trying to butter me up by seducing me…it will not work,” Lythas insisted. Contrary to his words, his voice had a sultry tone to it, and he was moving restlessly against his companion.

“Oh, I think it will,” Tsabrak teased, and he gently turned Lythas onto his back and covered his body with his.

“Stop it, Tsab,” Lythas said half-heartedly as his mate trailed sensual kisses along his neck and jaw. His next soft protest was muffled by Tsabrak’s mouth, and despite what he said earlier, Lythas found himself melting. Tsabrak’s mouth traveled down from his lips, licking and sucking in a worshipful way. Lythas sighed when his mate’s tongue swirled around his left nipple, the lips gently pulling at it.

“Forgive me yet?” Tsabrak said huskily, smiling against Lythas’ smooth skin.

“I…I told you that will not work,” Lythas quavered. How unfair of Tsabrak, to use sex as a weapon against him! He had to admit that he was enjoying the effort, however.

Tsabrak sighed sadly. “I shall have to work harder, then.” He dragged his mouth down the Lifebearer’s torso, his tongue tracing patterns on the pale skin. Lythas tangled his fingers into Tsabrak’s hair unconsciously when the sire nuzzled his belly and pushed his tongue into his navel teasingly.

“Tsabrak,” Lythallendar said in a warning tone.

Tsabrak ignored him and continued on. His hands stroked the insides of Lythas’ thighs, coaxing them apart. At first he was tense, but it only took a few moments for the sire to make him lose his senses and open up for him. Tsabrak stared at Lythas’ pretty, peach capped erection for a moment, admiring it, and then he took it into his mouth slowly.

Lythas groaned softly and lifted his hips helplessly, encouraging the hot, wet suction on his tender organ. “N-not fair,” he managed to gasp, but he may as well have been speaking to the wind, for all the acknowledgement he received. A delicate shudder coursed through his body as Tsabrak cupped his testicles and began to massage them.

Tsabrak was so aroused by the taste of Lythas and the sound of his faint moans that he couldn’t find the time to be amused. He loved to do this to his mate. As fair as he tried to be on the whole role-balancing situation, Tsabrak still had his urges and needs. Making Lythas pliant and submissive from pleasure always satisfied him with an intensity that put him in sheer heaven. He wanted his mate’s supple limbs wrapped around him, and to hear his melodious voice urging him to move harder. Tsabrak groaned himself when his young mate panted his name and thrust his cock more deeply down his throat. He began to press and rub the spot behind Lythallendar’s testicles, while still gently squeezing the swollen globes.

Lythas arched his back and moved his hips in a circular pattern, rapidly losing the contest of wills. Gods, Tsabrak was too good at this sort of thing! The lifebearer whimpered helplessly, feeling his entrance relaxing from his mate’s patient ministrations. Lythas grasped the bedsheets and hissed in pleasure as one of Tsabrak’s long fingers slid into him and found his pleasure spot. “Oh, y-you,” the Lifebearer gasped, but he could not finish the sentence, for he had no idea what it was that he was trying to say. All coherent thought fled as his mate suckled, squeezed and thrust between his legs.

Tsabrak took a few moments to stretch Lythas’ tight opening. He had originally only intended to bring him to climax, but now his own desire was so great that he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of sinking into that sweet tightness. He slowed the movements of his mouth and stopped stimulating Lythallendar’s scrotum, for it was becoming clear that he was getting very close to orgasm. Tsabrak didn’t want that to happen, just yet. He held the lifebearer’s throbbing shaft in his mouth and suckled it gently and soothingly as he carefully worked to lubricate his entrance. He almost smiled when Lythas made a frustrated sound in response to being denied his climax.

Once Tsabrak was certain that his mate was sufficiently prepared for him, he released Lythas’ organ from his mouth and stretched the length of his bronze body atop of him. He gazed down at Lythas in awe for a moment, amazed at how beautiful he was. Lythas’ green eyes were cloudy with desire and half-lidded, and his delicate lips were parted invitingly. His fair features were flushed with passion and his ebony hair was tousled from tossing his head from side to side.

Tsabrak pressed the tip of his cock against Lythas’ opening and kissed him softly on the lips. “Am I forgiven yet?” he purred. He could feel the smaller lashran’s erection throbbing like a living thing against his belly.

For a moment, Lythallendar’s emerald gaze became brighter with anger, but then they softened as he read his mate’s expression and deemed that he truly was sorry for lying to him. “Yes,” Lythallendar sighed in defeat, “you win, this time.”

“Thank you, Lythallendar. I love you,” replied Tsabrak truthfully. He kissed Lythas deeply and hungrily, and the lifebearer cupped the smooth, firm roundness of his buttocks and locked his legs around his waist. Taking his cue, Tsabrak pushed his hips forward, biting his lip to keep from bellowing like a savage at the pleasure of sheathing himself in his mate’s grasping warmth. Lythas surprised him by growling incoherently and thrusting his hips upwards, increasing the penetration. “My, you’re aggressive when you’re pregnant,” Tsabrak teased breathlessly.

Lythas couldn’t find the breath to respond. It wasn’t so much that he was more aggressive. Up until yesterday, Tsabrak had been afraid of having intercourse with him, out of concern for hurting their unborn baby. Lythas had reasoned with him and convinced him that it was a foolish concern, especially coming from one who had as much experience delivering Lashran children as Tsabrak did.

If Lythas had been experiencing complications, he could would have agreed, but so far his pregnancy was the most healthy one he had experienced in his young life. It had been days since he last felt his mate’s hardness within him, and Lythas could barely contain his exultation. As talented as Tsabrak was with foreplay, nothing compared to this most intimate sharing of one another’s bodies.

Tsabrak was having similar problems. He didn’t think it was possible to forget how incredibly wonderful Lythas felt, but he was proven wrong upon penetrating his mate. He tried to hold still for a moment and regain control of his raging hunger. Though he knew logically that intercourse wasn’t harmful to the baby at this stage of development, he didn’t want to tempt fate by being too rough. Lythas, however, was in no mood for hesitation. Though Tsabrak was holding still, the lifebearer was undulating his hips and taking the stiff organ in and out of his body.

“Oh, Lythas,” gasped Tsabrak helplessly, and he responded to his mate’s eagerness by starting a fast, penetrating rhythm.

Tsabrak froze in alarm the moment a sharp gasp passed Lythas’ lips. “Have I hurt you?” he asked, terrified that he had thrust too hard.

Lythas chuckled breathlessly. “You’ve heard me make that very same sound on countless occasions. I should think you know by now that it is a sound of pleasure, and not pain. Do not stop!”

Tsabrak smiled at his own paranoia and resumed, and Lythas clutched him hard and grunted against his chest as his peak rapidly came and he spilled himself. Tsabrak murmured nonsense to his gasping mate and slowed his thrusts to allow him to recover. “Never leave me, Tsabrak,” gasped Lythallendar.

Surprised by his words, Tsabrak stopped for a moment and gazed down at Lythas with inquiring, golden eyes. Tears rimmed the brilliant green of Lythas’ eyes as he gazed up at him soulfully. Tsabrak caressed Lythas’ cheek, realizing that some part of Lythas would always ache for Coren’s death, and that the gentle lifebearer might always fear that Tsabrak would die or leave him as well.

“I’m not going anywhere, beloved,” Tsabrak murmured. He kissed the salty tears from his mate’s eyes and continued to make love to him, only the raw sense of urgency he had felt earlier was replaced by a tender passion. Lythas kissed him feverishly and ran his fingertips up and down his back as Tsabrak’s gentle thrusts pleasured him.

After a few moments, Tsabrak slowed to a point where he was barely moving within Lythallendar, and he stared down at his mate with an expression akin to pain on his features. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Lythas caressed the sire’s parted lips with is fingertips and stared back at him as Tsabrak whispered his name shakenly and orgasmed. The climax was somehow both a spiritual and physical experience, and it left Tsabrak strangely exhausted. He managed not to put his full weight on Lythallendar as he collapsed atop him, breathing heavily. “I think,” wheezed the Sire, “that you should be on top the next time. Our lovemaking seems to be getting more intense each time.”

Lythas smiled and closed his eyes, running his fingers through the thick, silver mane of Tsabrak’s hair. “I would delight in being on top,” he murmured in shy tones.

Tsabrak chuckled and rose up on his elbows to look down at his mate. He pressed the tip of his nose against Lythallendar’s and said, “I pity those who do not have what I do.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Lyre barely had time to bear Vurkanan down to the deck and cover him with his body. Just as the sorcerer finished warning everyone to hold onto something, a bolt of energy shot out from the direction of the forest, where their persuers were. It hit the side of the ship with the force of a cannon and rocked the Swordfish. Either the gods took pity on them, or they were very lucky, for none of the crew fell overboard and the damage wasn’t very serious…yet. Lyre looked at Morgan and felt panic rising within him. The Bargel had ceased his screaming, but now it appeared that he was choking on his own tongue.

“He’s having seizures,” Nicolas said in a carefully controlled voice. The knight removed the belt from around his waist and pried his brother’s clenched jaw open, then fit the belt between his teeth. Valamir stroked the young man’s hair soothingly and cradled his head, so that Morgan wouldn’t bang his head on the deck with his violent movements.

One of the crewmembers scrambled across the deck to Aurora and yelled, “Miss, the cannons are ready! Do we fire now?”

“Hell, yes!” She answered, her hand tightly entwined with Morgan’s clenched one.

He made his way back to convey the message as quickly as he could, and Aurora lowered her lips to Morgan’s ear to murmur, “Just hold on, Morgan. We’re getting you out of here. Don’t let them take you!”

* * *

 

At the same time, another continent away, Tsabrak awoke from a dead sleep with a hitching gasp. He sat up straight and stared sightlessly forward with wide, amber eyes.

Lythas mumbled as the commotion woke him up, and the Lifebearer propped himself onto his elbows and looked at his mate in concern. “Tsabrak? What is the matter?”

The sire worked at calming his breathing, and he shook his head. “It’s nothing, beloved. Just a nightmare.” He smiled at Lythas and kissed him softly on the lips.

“You are certain you will be alright?” inquired Lythas dubiously.

“Of course. I think I shall go downstairs and have a brandy. ‘Twill help me get back to sleep.”

Lythallendar stared at him with penetrating, emerald eyes a moment longer, then blinked and yawned. “Very well, Tsab,” he said sleepily, and then he rose and kissed him lingeringly before lying back down again and closing his eyes.

Tsabrak ran his fingers through his tumbled, silver hair and shivered. The psychic scream that had awoken him still reverberated in his mind. The link that he shared with Morgan was still fresh enough for the two of them to communicate, and the lad’s desperate cry for help was loud enough that it had seemed like he was standing in the bedroom, shouting it. Tsabrak swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He absently grabbed his robe from the hanger on the wall and covered his nudity with it before opening the door and heading downstairs.

He immediately went into the study and closed the door, then sat at the desk and reclined in the chair, closing his eyes. He slowed his breathing and concentrated on going into a trance. Once he successfully did so, he reached out with his senses to locate Morgan. Tsabrak hissed when he found the lad, for Morgan’s agony pulsed out from him in waves and assailed the sire as well. “Morgan, what’s happening to you, lad?” Tsabrak asked in the calmest voice he could.

The reply was weak and trembling with pain. “N-Nan…dar,” Morgan’s mental voice moaned, “Attacking…me. T-taking…me…”

Tsabrak’s blood ran cold at the implications of that little bit of information. He didn’t waste time asking what in bloody hells the younglings were doing near Nandar, for he already had a suspicion, and Morgan was quickly losing the battle. There was a way that Tsabrak could help, even from this distance. The lashran who were attacking Morgan weren’t the only ones who knew how to manipulate astral energy.

“Morgan, listen to me. Focus on my aura and let it give you strength. I need you to hold on long enough for me to send a manifestation through the link we share. Can you do that for me?” Tsabrak said gently, speaking as he would to a frightened, ailing child.

Morgan’s aura throbbed weakly, the white-hot ropes of energy connected to it tugging insistently. “Aye…I will…try, sir.”

Tsabrak forced himself to stay calm. The odds were that all of the younglings were in trouble, but all that he could do was attempt to stop those who were trying to capture Morgan’s spirit. He would have to trust them to get out of the physical part, themselves. The most difficult part was opening his eyes and moving his physical body without losing his trance-state and his connection to Morgan. The sire grunted and snarled inwardly, reaching for the letter opener on the desk. Once he had it in his grasp, he slowly pulled the sleeve of his robe up on his other arm, exposing his bronze skin. Steeling himself, he made a shallow cut in his inner forearm, just enough to make blood well.

Then he stood up slowly and turned his arm so that the blood dripped sluggishly onto the floor. Narrowing his golden eyes, Tsabrak focused his will and began to shape the astral energy around him. With painful care, he formed his totem animal; a black panther. By the time he was finished and the spiritual creature sat on its haunches gazing at him patiently, Tsabrak was shaking all over, both physically and psychically. He made his desires known to the animal and sent it through the link as quickly as he could. It wasn’t the same as telling a trained animal what to do. The panther was a manifestation of Tsabrak’s own spirit, and thus had no independent thought of its own.

Tsabrak finally let his breath out in a sigh and collapsed onto the floor. As he began to slip into unconsciousness, he said to Morgan, “Just a bit longer, lad. You should be free soon.”

* * *

 

“Should I cast again, Elder?” questioned the sorcerer who was responsible for dispelling the Swordfish’s shield and firing the energy bolt at it.

Bakarus nodded. “Yes, but do not put your full force behind it. Valamir is on that ship, and I do not wish for him to be killed.”

The wizard nodded and began his slow chant again. Bakarus waved his guards forward and gave the signal for them to be ready to fire their weapons upon the crew, if there was resistance. When they obeyed and began to march forward, he turned to one of the sorcerers who had leashed the invading magic-user’s spirit. “What is your progress?” he questioned.

The younger Sire was sweating, and his expression was strained. “His is strong, Elder. A sudden burst of strength seems to have renewed his efforts against us, but we shall soon have him.”

Bakarus nodded and turned to view the progress of his warriors, who were slowly advancing from the cover of the trees, towards the mouth of the cove. His satisfaction in the proceedings was cut short quite suddenly, for two things happened almost simultaneously. First, one of the sorcerers working on detaining the human magician screamed in terror and pain, then fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Bakarus stared with wide eyes at the huge gash in the wizard’s neck. It appeared to be the work of a large animal, though there was no sign of any beasts around. Another of the sorcerers backpedaled and made warding gestures with his hands, then seemed to be knocked to the ground by an invisible force.

“See to him,” ordered Bakarus of his bodyguards. They tried to help the stricken sorcerers, but there was nothing they could do. Bakarus started to tell the elementalist to cease his casting and find out what was going on, but before he could do so, a series of booms rumbled from the direction of the cove, followed by a whistling noise which grew louder and louder.

“Seek cover!” One of Bakarus’ guards yelled, and he pushed the Elder to the ground and lay atop him protectively. The pitch of the whistling deepened, and suddenly it seemed as if the trees and earth around them were exploding. Men screamed, and many of the soldiers closest to the opening in the trees were tossed through the air. The lashran were absolutely bewildered from the attack. They had never seen a ship turn so swiftly, nor display the firepower that the Swordfish had just demonstrated. The cannon fire ceased for the moment, and those whose ears weren’t ringing could only hear the faint moans of the wounded and dying. Fortunately for them, the attack wasn’t actually focused; it was purely meant to wreak enough havoc to divide them and buy time.

“We should rush them before they can reload, Elder Bakarus!” Suggested the captain of his personal guard.

Bakarus struggled to his feet and held his hand up to command silence. “We do not know how long it will take for them to reload. I have never seen Human engineered cannons fire that quickly, or with that sort of precision. Stay your ground and prepare distance attacks.” He turned to check on his elementalist, and froze. The wizard lay against a tree, and his head tilted at an unnatural angle. He must have been tossed by the impact of one of the cannon balls. His neck was broken, and his eyes stared sightlessly at the night sky. Looking around him, Bakarus could see that the other wizards he had with him were not in much better shape. The wounds caused by whatever force it was that attacked them had vanished almost as quickly as they appeared, but all three were in a dangerous state of shock. One of the medics was moving from one wizard to the next and shaking his head in bemusement.

“Shall I send word to bring the new ion cannons, Elder?” Questioned the captain.

Bakarus’ shoulders slumped. Even he recognized that the danger was very real for them now. The most they could do was assemble an ocean fleet to pursue the vessel, which was turning as they spoke and making odd rumbling sounds. Clouds of steam erupted from the cylindrical towers that replaced sails in the center and back of the ship. The ion cannons were still in their experimental stage, and to risk using them in such a heavily forested area (which was rapidly catching fire from the explosions that the Swordfish sent into it) was far too risky. “No, the ion cannons could only cause more harm than good. I want three warships readied with a full crew, immediately. We shall have to rely on naval pursuit.”

* * *

 

“They’re leaving,” Lyre said with no small amount of relief in his tone, “How is Morgan doing?”

Nicolas swallowed before answering, “He jerked quite suddenly, just before the cannons were fired, and then lay still. His breathing is back to normal and he is no longer seizing, but he’s unconscious.”

Vurkanan decided to take the risk and shift his sight to the astral. “They no longer hold him. Either our cannon fire broke their concentration, or they’ve trapped him. I must calm down and trance deeper, before I can tell for certain.”

Aurora was doing a fine job not to cry, though her hands trembled as they stroked Morgan’s disheveled, dark brown hair from his eyes. “But, I was watching,” she said in a slightly shaken voice, “His body went into that one last twitch before the cannons fired. They’ve gotten him, haven’t they?” Her voice took on a slightly panicked edge, and Lyre put his arm around her.

“We don’t know that for certain. Something else might have happened. Perhaps they saw that we were getting ready to fire and ordered them to stop their assault on him. What do you think, Valamir?” Lyre’s green eyes were faintly pleading as they turned to the Elder.

Valamir gazed down at the young man with a thoughtful expression. “It would seem logical that if they knew an attack was coming, they would take precautions to protect their magic users. Whatever happened, I feel that the attack on the young man’s mind was ceased before it could do permanent damage. We can only hope.”

His words, spoken so calmly and confidently, worked as a soothing balm on their frazzled nerves. “Alright then,” Aurora said, sniffling and wiping her nose carelessly on her sleeve, “Let’s get Morgan below deck so that Vurk can have a look at him. The crew already has their orders to get us to a neutral harbor so that we can assess the damage to the ship. I don’t think it’s bad enough that we’ll sink, but any holes need to get patched up right away.”

Nicolas slipped his hands beneath his brother’s arms and grasped him about the chest, and Lyre took hold of his feet. Together, they lifted Morgan and carried him to the hatch, with the others following closely behind. Aurora told the co-captain to let them know immediately if there were any signs of pursuit. She knew that once they were at a safe enough distance, she should have Vurkanan camouflage the ship again, but her biggest concern for the moment was Morgan. She wasn’t a religious person and didn’t know enough about the Gods to decide which one to pray to for Morgan’s health, so she prayed to all of them and hoped that at least one would listen.

* * *

 

“His mind and spirit are intact.”

When Vurkanan said those words, Aurora literally felt like her legs didn’t exist anymore. She slid bonelessly to the deck beside the bed where Morgan lay and rested her head against the mattress. “Oh, fuck…thank the Gods,” she said huskily.

Nicolas bowed his head and closed his eyes, the only sign of how relieved he was that the knight would give. Valamir smiled and murmured a thankful prayer to the Forests, and Lyre hugged his sister tightly and gave a shuddering sigh of relief. “’Rora, do you want to stay down here with him?” Lyre offered, “I know enough about seafaring to take care of things topside, I think.”

She gave her brother a rueful smirk and shook her raven hair out of her eyes. “I appreciate the thought, but we both know you get lost in a sack. I’m fine, now that I know Morgan’s not going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life.” She then switched her pale blue gaze on Vurkanan and said; “Do you think you can work another shield over the ship? We need every advantage we can get, if they send a fleet after us.”

Vurkanan pondered the matters at hand for a moment. Yes, he could work another shielding, but it would be to little avail now. Bakarus knew that there was at least one magic user on board, and his sorcerer troops were just too powerful for a shielding to stop them for long. They had already proven that at the cove. “I can,” he said slowly, “but I really think my energy would be best reserved to power up the engines and increase our speed. I think that outrunning them is the best option that we have now.”

Aurora cursed and chewed her lip as she racked her brain for another solution. Nicolas had gone quiet, and Lyre wondered what the knight was thinking. He was stroking his chin and staring blankly at the wall. “What about a lie?” He finally said.

They looked at one another in confusion, none of them quite understanding what he was getting at. “A lie?” Said Lyre.

The paladin nodded. “Aye. Or rather, a trick. We could stage it to look like we took more damage from their magical attack than we have, and sink the ship. While they are investigating the wreckage, we can either book passage on another ship heading to Tariff, or buy a small one of our own. A schooner, if we must.”

Valamir chuckled in delight. “That is brilliant! Of course, they will discover the truth eventually, when they find no bodies beneath the waves, but by then we shall be out of their reach and they will not know which ships to watch out for. They wouldn’t dare send an invading force into your pirate city for the sake of retrieving me.”

“Sink Father’s ship?” Aurora said defensively, “But, he worked so hard on the Swordfish! He loves this ship!”

Valamir gazed at the young woman with quiet sympathy rimming his eyes and said; “I am sure that he loves his children more. I know this is a difficult decision to have to make, but I believe that Lythallendar would want you to sink the ship, if it would bring you and Lyre home safely to him.”

Lyre nodded unhappily and murmured, “They’re right, ‘Rora. Our only other hope is that the nearest island settlement would take up arms to protect us, and I don’t think that will happen. Humans are wary enough of lashran as it is in these parts, with trade having been cut off. If a crew of men and four Lashran come to their harbor begging them to risk life and limb against hostile forces, I doubt their answer will be favorable. Our best chance is to purchase a schooner, as Nick suggested, and make our way home from the nearest harbor. It hurts me as well to say goodbye to this ship. She’s a good one.”

Aurora began to angrily wipe tears from her eyes, but the slow drip didn’t cease. “I know…but it’s like having to kill one family member so the rest can survive. Sounds stupid, I guess.”

Nicolas frowned. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid at all. You and your father have used this ship for years to conduct your business, and I was raised among pirates as well, so I understand the attachment you feel. I wish that it didn’t have to be this way, Aurora.”

She nodded and slowly rose to her feet. Her shoulders slumped as she turned towards the door. “I’ll inform the crew of our plan, so that they can be…ready…to do what we have to do.”

* * *

 

Lythas stretched and yawned, squinting as the morning light beamed in through the window and struck his sensitive eyes. “I should have closed the curtains before going to bed,” he grumbled thickly. He turned over to cuddle against Tsabrak, but found his mate’s side of the bed to be empty. Frowning, he sat up and scratched his head. It was unusual for Tsabrak to wake before he did. Lythallendar had gotten into the habit of waking with the sunrise years ago, and he was normally bathed, dressed and making his plans for the day by the time Tsabrak came down for breakfast.

“Perhaps his nightmare disturbed him more than he let on,” mused the Lifebearer aloud, “or perhaps he fell asleep on the couch in the parlor, or the study.” Still, something didn’t _feel_ right about the whole thing. He decided to skip taking his usual morning hip bath and go downstairs first to look for his Bondmate.

“Tsabrak?” He called softly as he descended the staircase. No answer. He didn’t find the sire sleeping on the couch in the parlor, nor did he find him in the kitchen. He called his name again, a bit louder now out of worry. A muffled groan came from the back of the house, towards the study.

Lythas moved swiftly down the hall and opened the study door, and his green eyes went wide at the sight of his mate lying on the floor, beside the desk. He noticed the small bloodstain on the ornate, imported carpet first, and he quickly knelt beside Tsabrak and checked his hair for any signs of blood. The first thing that he thought of was that Tsabrak had drank too much and tripped, possibly hitting his head on the corner of the desk. After all, the bloodstain was only a few inches from his head.

“Tsab, are you hurt?” Lythas asked with rising concern. He shook his mate’s shoulder gently.

Tsabrak groaned again and rolled over onto his back. His knee struck the leg of the table, and he yelped and grasped it with both hands. “Arrgh…bloody table!”

Lythallendar then saw the shallow cut in Tsabrak’s forearm, which was already closed up and nearly mended. Tsabrak must have gone into a healing trance while he slept, but how did the cut get there in the first place? Then his emerald gaze narrowed as he noticed the letter opener lying a few feet away. The blade had dried blood on it. “What is this all about, Tsabrak?” Lythas questioned, grabbing the letter opener and holding it over his mate’s hazy, amber eyes.

“I…ah…had a bit of an accident,” Tsabrak murmured, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Lythas sighed and helped him to sit up. His fair features were tense as anger began to replace his concern. “You know, when Coren thought that some news would distress me too much, he would attempt to cover it up with lies. I knew he meant well, but they were still lies. I thought that it was his human nature that made him patronize me so, but apparently, it is a trait that sires share as well.”

His words struck home, and Tsabrak lowered his gaze and grimaced. “Now,” continued Lythas, “are you going to be honest with me, or must I investigate this matter for myself and possibly become more angry with you than I already am?” He was beginning to feel his morning sickness coming on, and the dread that was worming its way into his belly wasn’t helping in the least.

Tsabrak recognized that petulant frown that graced his bondmate’s delicate lips, and he sighed. He wasn’t going to get out of this one very easily. “You are right, sweet one. I shouldn’t be hiding things from you. I was only thinking of your health, considering the delicate condition you’re in.”

Lythas huffed impatiently and crossed his arms over his chest. His porcelain features tensed up into the “I’m waiting” expression that warned that his patience was wearing thin.

Tsabrak winced and said, “It wasn’t a nightmare that awoke me last night. It was a cry for help from Morgan.”

Lythas’ expression softened into one of worry, and his skin took on a grey-ish hue. “Do not hold your morning sickness back, beloved. I promise I shall tell you everything after you’ve relieved yourself,” Tsabrak said gently, stroking Lythallendar’s soft curls.

Lythas’ lips parted to say something, but then his eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet and ran to the downstairs privy. The Lifebearer quickly twisted his hair into a makeshift ponytail and tucked it into the back of his robe before bending over the toilet to be sick. Tsabrak came in behind him and rubbed his back, as he always did when these bouts struck Lythas. When the retching spasms ended, Tsabrak ran a cloth under the faucet and dabbed his mate’s mouth and face with it. “Thank you,” Lythas said with a cough.

Tsabrak smiled and kissed his forehead, then sat back on his haunches and regarded him seriously. “Little one, Aurora and Lyre lied. There was no shipment. They took Nicolas to Nandar, to rescue Valamir. I do not know all of the details yet,” he quickly said when Lythas opened his mouth to speak, “but there were sorcerers trying to trap Morgan’s spirit. They’ve apparently become better at dealing with Human magicks than they were before. I wasn’t able to find out how they had ‘leashed’ him, as he was fading fast. My only chance of saving him was to send my totem spirit through the link we share to disrupt the working that the Lashran sorcerers were attacking him with. I haven’t heard anything since then. Of course, I’ve only just woken up from my swoon, so perhaps Morgan was simply unable to reach me.”

The peach tone that normally graced Lythallendar’s smooth skin was completely gone, now. His large green eyes were the only color in his face. “Contact him now, Tsabrak,” he said faintly.

Tsabrak didn’t argue. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and Lythas waited in tense silence. He was heartened when he counted that roughly five minutes had gone past, which probably meant that he was speaking with the young Bargel. Lythas chewed his lip and unconsciously began to bounce his knee rapidly as he waited to hear what was happening.

Finally, the Sire opened his eyes again. His posture relaxed and he smiled reassuringly at Lythas. Lythallendar had to take deep, gulping breaths, for the fear that he had been holding in poured out of his body all at once. Tsabrak took him his trembling mate into his arms and held him tightly. “Shhh, they are fine, beloved. Try to calm yourself, and I’ll explain what happened.”

Lythas nodded and regulated his breathing. He stayed in Tsabrak’s arms as the Sire told him all of the events as Morgan described them, up to now. “The bad news is that they are going to have to sink your ship to buy time,” he finished, “while Bakarus’ men are occupied with searching the wreckage, they will be purchasing a ship to come home on.”

“So long as they come home, I care not,” Lythas said huskily, “and they are going to be in for a serious tongue lashing from me, when they get here! If they needed the help so badly, they should have asked for it!”

Tsabrak smiled and cupped his mate’s chin, forcing his brilliant eyes to look at him. “And what if they had come to us for help? Would you have given them your blessings, or would you have tried to stop them? The thought of them going into danger is very stressful to me as well, Lythallendar, but we must both realize that they are adults now. They make their own decisions, for good or for ill. I expect we may be seeing a Bonding ceremony between my brother and your son, soon. Aurora had acted with uncommonly good sense, and her quick decisions played a big part in keeping them all alive. You’ll only drive yourself mad trying to hold them back, dear one.”

Lythas growled in annoyance and looked away. “I suppose you are correct. I cannot simply turn off my parental instincts, though. Do not forget, you are in trouble for lying to me as well, Tsabrak.”

Tsabrak whistled softly through his teeth and murmured, “I know. I shall have to make it up to you, somehow. What can I do to make my sweet bondmate forgive me?”

Lythas snorted and tossed his head a bit. “You shall have to figure that out on your own.”

Tsabrak grinned.

* * *

 

“What happened?” Morgan muttered as he sat up in the bed. Lyre and Vurkanan smiled brightly at him, happy to see that he was awake.

“We nearly lost you, friend,” Vurkanan replied, “A few more moments and you might have been killed or worse. Bakarus had his magicians attack you psychically, trying to trap your spirit.”

The Bargel paled. “I remember now…that was horrible! Tsabrak came to my aid.”

Lyre furrowed his blond brows and parted his lips. “Tsabrak? How could he have possibly helped you from clear across the ocean? I think you were hallucinating, Morgan.”

Morgan shook his head. “No, I wasn’t. He and I are still linked from when you were all prisoners in Vartros. He must have felt what was happening to me, and he came to me in astral from and sent some kind of manifestation through our link to attack the fellows who were holding me. It must have done some good.”

“A talented sorcerer indeed, your Tsabrak,” commented Valamir, “I am glad that he is on our side.”

Vurkanan snorted. “Tsab isn’t so much powerful as he is wily. He’s been around long enough to learn all of the tricks.”

Out of curiosity, for he still didn’t know much about the Sire who was Bonded with his father, Lyre asked, “Vurk, how old is Tsabrak?”

The sorcerer replied, “He is two hundred-fourteen years old. His birthday is coming up in a couple of months, too. Do not let on that I told you his age, though. He might not thank me for it.”

Valamir looked at Vurkanan in surprise. “Your parents must have had you late in life, young Vurkanan. I cannot imagine you being much older than Lyre.”

Vurkanan blushed and grinned coyly. “Ah well, appearances can be deceiving, you know. I am closer to Lythallendar’s age than Lyre’s. I just don’t act like it.” He paused to chuckle, and the others joined him.

“How old are you, then?” Questioned Morgan with a smirk.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”

“Come now, angel…tell us how old you are. I feel foolish not knowing, myself,” Lyre coaxed.

Unable to refuse his lover anything, the lifebearer sighed and ran his slender fingers through his silvery hair. “Very well. I am ninety-one years old. Yes, our father gave birth to me late in his childbearing years. They nearly lost me, in fact.” Frowning, he wondered again what happened to his parents, and he turned to Valamir and said, “Elder, I know that you came from a different village from Tsabrak and I, but please…have you heard of Sarik and Rialdon? They vanished shortly before the new laws were put into effect, and Tsabrak and I haven’t been able to learn anything of their fate.”

Valamir’s expression became thoughtful. “Those names do sound familiar to me. Let me think for a moment.” Vurkanan waited as patiently as possible as Valamir pondered over the where he had last heard the names of his parents. The elder’s eyes lit up and he said, “Oh yes…I remember. Bakarus spoke of them to me once, for he was concerned with their protests against the breeding laws that the Council was proposing. Now that I think back, I remember that they were concerned for you, Vurkanan. Bakarus said that while they did wish to see you settled happily with a mate, they did not want the decision forced upon you. He said that they mentioned something about you being in a grieving period and that it was unhealthy to rush you into a bond.”

Vurkanan felt as if the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. “Do you know what became of them? All that I could discover was that they left to speak with other villages about the laws.”

Valamir’s expression darkened. “I am sorry, youngling. I wish that I could give you more, but if they were rebelling, there is a chance that they were exiled.”

Nicolas felt coldness settle in the pit of his stomach at the expression on the elder’s face. “They would not arrange for their death over this, would they?”

Valamir opened his mouth to deny it vehemently, but snapped it shut and reconsidered. His people were no longer as they used to be. A few short years ago, imprisonment and execution were unheard of among the lashran, as was rape. Lately, things had changed so much that he could no longer say with certainty what lengths the Council might go through…especially to keep troublemakers quiet.

“It is…unlikely,” he said hesitantly, “I would say that they probably cast them out, if they did anything at all. Of course, something could have happened to your parents in their travels, Vurkanan. There are dangers in the world that could account for them missing as well.”

Vurkanan stared at him for a moment, and his pale eyes went flat and hopeless. The sorcerer knew now, beyond a doubt that his parents were indeed dead. He surely would have sensed their presence by now, otherwise. Even if they were constrained under tight surveillance, some “feeling” of at least one of them would have touched him in his searches. He inherited his magical gifts through his Sire’s side of the family, after all. Sarik’s abilities might have been dormant, but he would have been able to feel his son’s presence, if he were alive.

“Vurk? Please, don’t give up hope yet,” Lyre said softly, putting his arms around his lover’s rigid body, “talk to me.”

“Tsabrak knew it,” Vurkanan said in an aching whisper, “I could see it in his eyes. He accepted their death long ago, but I refused to believe the worst. Gods, I am such a fool!”

Valamir gazed at the distressed sorcerer with sympathy and said, “You are not a fool, Vurkanan. Hoping is never foolish, and it takes a strong person to retain hope for as long as you have. I am truly sorry for your loss, and I wish that there was some way that I could have prevented whatever happened to your parents.”

Vurkanan turned and buried his face against Lyre’s chest. “Not your fault,” he mumbled huskily.

Valamir closed his eyes and bowed his head.

* * *

 

They chose a spot a few miles Southeast of a fishing and trading post, that was between Nandar and Avras. The sun was setting, which would aid their plan. If Bakarus had sent a fleet out to capture them, they would see the glow from the flames and find the wreck of the ship. The lashran would likely search for longer at night, out of the assumption that any bodies would be harder to find in the dark…which gave the fleeing crew of the Swordfish even more time. After loading the crew onto the lifeboats and setting out, Vurkanan manipulated the explosives on board with his magic.

As they rowed away from the flaming, sinking vessel, Aurora stood nimbly in the boat she shared with her friends and brother. She couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled down her cheeks as her father’s beloved ship slowly died before her eyes. “All I can say is this damned well better work!” The young woman said vehemently. Morgan awkwardly stood beside her (his balance wasn’t nearly as good as hers) and put his arm around her supportively.

“I’m sorry that we had to resort to this, Aurora,” Nicolas said gravely.

She shook her head and sniffled. “No…you were right. We have to throw them off our scent. What’s important now is getting back home.” She kissed her fingertips and waved at the Swordfish, bidding it a heartfelt goodbye. Then she sat down beside Lyre and gazed at Nicolas and Valamir somberly. “What do you plan to do, once we reach Tariff? Are you going to live there, or move somewhere else?”

Nicolas and Valamir looked at one another for a moment, both smiling slightly. “We haven’t really discussed it yet,” the knight answered, “I don’t think it would be wise for us to stay in Tariff for an extended amount of time, but I don’t want to travel very far with his baby being so close to being born.”

“We shall decide after we’ve gotten there,” Valamir said, “once the little one has come, and things have settled down. I would very much like to meet Nicolas’ parents and see Lythallendar and Tsabrak again.”

Nicolas placed his hand over Valamir’s hesitantly, almost shyly, and the elder twined his fingers into the paladin’s and squeezed his hand gently. “Yes,” Nicolas said, “Mother will want to meet you. After that, I thought of using the money I’ve been saving to start a breeding ranch for war-horses. We shall see when we get there.”

Valamir lowered his deep violet gaze and murmured, “What will your parents think, I wonder? After all, we come from completely different worlds. Will they not find it strange to see their son involved with a male?”

Morgan grinned and answered before Nick got a chance. “I doubt it. Mother’s known Lythas and Tsabrak for years, and she’s one of the most open-minded people I know. Jahlad is actually our adopted Father, but we think of him as ‘Dad’. He’ll probably have a hundred questions for you about the Lashran. He’s a scholarly type…even more than Lyre and I are.”

Valamir smiled and relaxed. “I never knew that humans were so kind and accepting of others.”

Aurora snorted. “Don’t get the wrong idea and think they’re all like our family, Valamir. We come from a line of mixed breeds, outcasts and pirates…so naturally, we’re going to be a little more understanding of other people than most.”

The elder nodded. “I see,” he murmured, “I shall count myself lucky to have met you all, then.”

Thinking on his words, Lyre smiled crookedly and said, “I don’t think Father’s going to be all that ‘kind and understanding’ when we get back. I wonder if Tsabrak told him what happened, yet?”

Aurora gave her brother a confused look. “What do you mean? Does Tsabrak even know what happened?”

Lyre gave his sister a patient look and replied, “What do you think? He felt what was happening to Morgan and helped him stave off the sorcerers that were trying to trap him. Do you think he’d just work a spell and then forget all about it?”

Aurora turned to Morgan and said, “Has Tsabrak contacted you and asked about it?”

The Bargel resisted the urge to say something sarcastic. Aurora was still agitated and depressed over the destruction of the Swordfish. It would be foolish to expect her to be thinking logically. “Yes, he has. I’m sorry, ‘Rora, but I couldn’t lie to him. I told him everything. I don’t know if he’s spoken to Lythas about it or not.”

Aurora heaved a sigh. “That’s fucking wonderful,” she muttered, “I had a story ready and everything. I was going to say that we ran into a coastal fleet and were outnumbered.”

Lyre decided that anything he might say would only agitate her further, so he contented himself with watching the sunset.

* * *

 

“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” Tsabrak said as he slid into bed beside Lythas. The lifebearer was lying on his side with his back facing the pirate.

“I do not think I need to answer that question,” Lythas said quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t so much angry as he was hurt and frustrated that his mate felt the need to patronize him, as if he were a child.

“Lythas, I am truly sorry for not being honest with you,” Tsabrak murmured. He pulled Lythas’ shiny, black hair aside to expose his neck and shoulder, and he began to kiss the ivory skin. “I was not doing it because I think of you as an inferior person. My protective instincts for you got the better of me, I suppose. I know that you are quite a capable person. Hell, you’re more intelligent than I could ever dream of being! I just worried over what the stress of finding out might do to you in your condition. If you weren’t pregnant, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment to tell you. Please believe me.”

Lythas shivered as Tsabrak’s warm lips caressed his shoulder and neck. His reflective eyes closed and he parted his lips. “This is not fair, Tsab,” he whispered as Tsabrak’s body pressed against his. Neither of them wore clothing to bed, and Lythas could feel every hard line of the sire’s form against his back. He felt his mate’s erection pressing against his bottom, and he sprung to hardness in answer.

Tsabrak grinned and began to work on Lythallendar’s sensitive earlobe. His hand slid along the Lifebearer’s ribcage and around to his stomach. “What isn’t fair, love?” he inquired innocently.

Lythas sucked in a sharp breath as Tsabrak’s palm began to rub his belly in smooth, gentle circles. “You know what you are doing,” the lifebearer said. He had intended to sound firm, but his voice came out husky and wanton sounding.

“Is there something wrong with me touching my mate affectionately?” Tsabrak purred. His teeth caught Lythas’ earlobe and teasingly skimmed it, making the lifebearer unconsciously tilt his head back at an angle and press his bottom against Tsabrak’s manhood.

“You are trying to butter me up by seducing me…it will not work,” Lythas insisted. Contrary to his words, his voice had a sultry tone to it, and he was moving restlessly against his companion.

“Oh, I think it will,” Tsabrak teased, and he gently turned Lythas onto his back and covered his body with his.

“Stop it, Tsab,” Lythas said half-heartedly as his mate trailed sensual kisses along his neck and jaw. His next soft protest was muffled by Tsabrak’s mouth, and despite what he said earlier, Lythas found himself melting. Tsabrak’s mouth traveled down from his lips, licking and sucking in a worshipful way. Lythas sighed when his mate’s tongue swirled around his left nipple, the lips gently pulling at it.

“Forgive me yet?” Tsabrak said huskily, smiling against Lythas’ smooth skin.

“I…I told you that will not work,” Lythas quavered. How unfair of Tsabrak, to use sex as a weapon against him! He had to admit that he was enjoying the effort, however.

Tsabrak sighed sadly. “I shall have to work harder, then.” He dragged his mouth down the Lifebearer’s torso, his tongue tracing patterns on the pale skin. Lythas tangled his fingers into Tsabrak’s hair unconsciously when the sire nuzzled his belly and pushed his tongue into his navel teasingly.

“Tsabrak,” Lythallendar said in a warning tone.

Tsabrak ignored him and continued on. His hands stroked the insides of Lythas’ thighs, coaxing them apart. At first he was tense, but it only took a few moments for the sire to make him lose his senses and open up for him. Tsabrak stared at Lythas’ pretty, peach capped erection for a moment, admiring it, and then he took it into his mouth slowly.

Lythas groaned softly and lifted his hips helplessly, encouraging the hot, wet suction on his tender organ. “N-not fair,” he managed to gasp, but he may as well have been speaking to the wind, for all the acknowledgement he received. A delicate shudder coursed through his body as Tsabrak cupped his testicles and began to massage them.

Tsabrak was so aroused by the taste of Lythas and the sound of his faint moans that he couldn’t find the time to be amused. He loved to do this to his mate. As fair as he tried to be on the whole role-balancing situation, Tsabrak still had his urges and needs. Making Lythas pliant and submissive from pleasure always satisfied him with an intensity that put him in sheer heaven. He wanted his mate’s supple limbs wrapped around him, and to hear his melodious voice urging him to move harder. Tsabrak groaned himself when his young mate panted his name and thrust his cock more deeply down his throat. He began to press and rub the spot behind Lythallendar’s testicles, while still gently squeezing the swollen globes.

Lythas arched his back and moved his hips in a circular pattern, rapidly losing the contest of wills. Gods, Tsabrak was too good at this sort of thing! The lifebearer whimpered helplessly, feeling his entrance relaxing from his mate’s patient ministrations. Lythas grasped the bedsheets and hissed in pleasure as one of Tsabrak’s long fingers slid into him and found his pleasure spot. “Oh, y-you,” the Lifebearer gasped, but he could not finish the sentence, for he had no idea what it was that he was trying to say. All coherent thought fled as his mate suckled, squeezed and thrust between his legs.

Tsabrak took a few moments to stretch Lythas’ tight opening. He had originally only intended to bring him to climax, but now his own desire was so great that he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of sinking into that sweet tightness. He slowed the movements of his mouth and stopped stimulating Lythallendar’s scrotum, for it was becoming clear that he was getting very close to orgasm. Tsabrak didn’t want that to happen, just yet. He held the lifebearer’s throbbing shaft in his mouth and suckled it gently and soothingly as he carefully worked to lubricate his entrance. He almost smiled when Lythas made a frustrated sound in response to being denied his climax.

Once Tsabrak was certain that his mate was sufficiently prepared for him, he released Lythas’ organ from his mouth and stretched the length of his bronze body atop of him. He gazed down at Lythas in awe for a moment, amazed at how beautiful he was. Lythas’ green eyes were cloudy with desire and half-lidded, and his delicate lips were parted invitingly. His fair features were flushed with passion and his ebony hair was tousled from tossing his head from side to side.

Tsabrak pressed the tip of his cock against Lythas’ opening and kissed him softly on the lips. “Am I forgiven yet?” he purred. He could feel the smaller lashran’s erection throbbing like a living thing against his belly.

For a moment, Lythallendar’s emerald gaze became brighter with anger, but then they softened as he read his mate’s expression and deemed that he truly was sorry for lying to him. “Yes,” Lythallendar sighed in defeat, “you win, this time.”

“Thank you, Lythallendar. I love you,” replied Tsabrak truthfully. He kissed Lythas deeply and hungrily, and the lifebearer cupped the smooth, firm roundness of his buttocks and locked his legs around his waist. Taking his cue, Tsabrak pushed his hips forward, biting his lip to keep from bellowing like a savage at the pleasure of sheathing himself in his mate’s grasping warmth. Lythas surprised him by growling incoherently and thrusting his hips upwards, increasing the penetration. “My, you’re aggressive when you’re pregnant,” Tsabrak teased breathlessly.

Lythas couldn’t find the breath to respond. It wasn’t so much that he was more aggressive. Up until yesterday, Tsabrak had been afraid of having intercourse with him, out of concern for hurting their unborn baby. Lythas had reasoned with him and convinced him that it was a foolish concern, especially coming from one who had as much experience delivering Lashran children as Tsabrak did.

If Lythas had been experiencing complications, he could would have agreed, but so far his pregnancy was the most healthy one he had experienced in his young life. It had been days since he last felt his mate’s hardness within him, and Lythas could barely contain his exultation. As talented as Tsabrak was with foreplay, nothing compared to this most intimate sharing of one another’s bodies.

Tsabrak was having similar problems. He didn’t think it was possible to forget how incredibly wonderful Lythas felt, but he was proven wrong upon penetrating his mate. He tried to hold still for a moment and regain control of his raging hunger. Though he knew logically that intercourse wasn’t harmful to the baby at this stage of development, he didn’t want to tempt fate by being too rough. Lythas, however, was in no mood for hesitation. Though Tsabrak was holding still, the lifebearer was undulating his hips and taking the stiff organ in and out of his body.

“Oh, Lythas,” gasped Tsabrak helplessly, and he responded to his mate’s eagerness by starting a fast, penetrating rhythm.

Tsabrak froze in alarm the moment a sharp gasp passed Lythas’ lips. “Have I hurt you?” he asked, terrified that he had thrust too hard.

Lythas chuckled breathlessly. “You’ve heard me make that very same sound on countless occasions. I should think you know by now that it is a sound of pleasure, and not pain. Do not stop!”

Tsabrak smiled at his own paranoia and resumed, and Lythas clutched him hard and grunted against his chest as his peak rapidly came and he spilled himself. Tsabrak murmured nonsense to his gasping mate and slowed his thrusts to allow him to recover. “Never leave me, Tsabrak,” gasped Lythallendar.

Surprised by his words, Tsabrak stopped for a moment and gazed down at Lythas with inquiring, golden eyes. Tears rimmed the brilliant green of Lythas’ eyes as he gazed up at him soulfully. Tsabrak caressed Lythas’ cheek, realizing that some part of Lythas would always ache for Coren’s death, and that the gentle lifebearer might always fear that Tsabrak would die or leave him as well.

“I’m not going anywhere, beloved,” Tsabrak murmured. He kissed the salty tears from his mate’s eyes and continued to make love to him, only the raw sense of urgency he had felt earlier was replaced by a tender passion. Lythas kissed him feverishly and ran his fingertips up and down his back as Tsabrak’s gentle thrusts pleasured him.

After a few moments, Tsabrak slowed to a point where he was barely moving within Lythallendar, and he stared down at his mate with an expression akin to pain on his features. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Lythas caressed the sire’s parted lips with is fingertips and stared back at him as Tsabrak whispered his name shakenly and orgasmed. The climax was somehow both a spiritual and physical experience, and it left Tsabrak strangely exhausted. He managed not to put his full weight on Lythallendar as he collapsed atop him, breathing heavily. “I think,” wheezed the Sire, “that you should be on top the next time. Our lovemaking seems to be getting more intense each time.”

Lythas smiled and closed his eyes, running his fingers through the thick, silver mane of Tsabrak’s hair. “I would delight in being on top,” he murmured in shy tones.

Tsabrak chuckled and rose up on his elbows to look down at his mate. He pressed the tip of his nose against Lythallendar’s and said, “I pity those who do not have what I do.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Finding a ship was easier said than done. Aurora spoke with several sailors and ship owners, but none were willing to sell their vessels, and the few who were willing to allow her friends and crew to ride with them wanted an exchange that nearly sent her into a tangent. She would not “sell” any of her crewmembers as slaves, nor would she sleep with the captain of any of the boats. Lyre and the others waited for her at the dingy old Inn, and she prepared herself to give them the bad news.

Lyre saw the look on his sister’s face as she approached the table he and the others were sitting at, and his heart sank. “I take it you had no luck,” he said as she plopped down in a chair beside Morgan.

“This place is full of the worst kind of cutthroats,” she growled. Morgan poured a glass of wine for her from the bottle he had bought, and she gave him a thankful smirk and downed it in three swallows. “I’m starting to think the only way we’re going to get out of here is to hijack a ship.”

“No,” Nicolas said fiercely, “absolutely not! I refuse to take part in stealing.”

Valamir nodded in approval. “I agree. Surely we can find some other recourse.”

Aurora ran her fingers through her tangled, raven hair and fought the urge to pull it out by the roots in frustration. She let go of her hair and leaned across the table to glare at Nicolas. “Listen, you…none of the men on this island are willing to sell, and the few that might be willing to take us back to Tariff wanted more in exchange than I was prepared to give. Most of these swindlers didn’t even buy the boats they have, do you understand? This is a P-I-R-A-T-E outpost, meaning it’s full of thieves and smugglers. We don’t have time to wait for someone to take pity on us, man!”

Morgan was uncomfortable with siding against his brother, but he had to agree with Aurora on this one. “She knows what she’s talking about, Nick. ‘Rora’s been at this sort of thing for most of her life, and if she thinks that stealing a ship is the only way, then it probably is. I’m not willing to wait for Bakarus to come down on our heads for a sense of morality.”

Nicolas wavered at that moment, his eyes going to Valamir of their own accord. Even if Bakarus gave up the search or managed to miss this outpost, Valamir didn’t have much time before his offspring would come. The thought of the gentle elder giving birth in this filthy place made the knight shudder. It was hard, but he nodded curtly to Aurora. “You are…right. I can’t let my morals cause suffering to any of us. Do you have a particular ship in mind for this endeavor?”

She sat with her mouth open for a moment, hardly believing she had won another argument with him. Shaking herself out of it, she said, “I’m working on it. I’ll need to profile some of the ships and see which ones have the slackest security. I also need to find one that’ll fit all of us safely-“

“Hsst! Keep your voice down,” warned Vurkanan, “that old man in the corner is staring at us!”

Aurora muttered a foul curse and followed the sorcerer’s gaze. Sure enough, there was an old man sucking on a pipe in the corner of the common room. His grey beard was wild and unkempt, as was his stringy hair. His bushy eyebrows were drawn so that she could barely make out the glitter of his eyes. Aurora stood up and started across the room towards him, for she was in no mood for games, and it was obvious that he had already heard at least some of their plans. His expression was neutral as she calmly seated herself beside him and said, “Alright, how much to keep your mouth shut?”

The old man sucked on his pipe, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. “Nuthin’. I ain’t interested in getting you folks into more trouble than you already are.”

Aurora glanced back at her friends and shrugged, then turned to the old man again. “It’s that obvious, is it?”

He chuckled dryly and pulled the pipe out of his mouth to take a swig of ale from the mug in front of him. Wiping his lips, he set the mug back down and looked at her shrewdly. “You folks are runnin’ from something…that much I can tell. Got a pregnant lashran with you, too. Did one of yer lads fall for him and steal him away from some rich sire?”

Aurora held her surprise well. This old man was a lot sharper than he looked. “Maybe. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The old man wasn’t the least bit offended. He stuck out his gnarled hand and said, “Name’s Gummy, ‘cause I ain’t got no teeth anymore.”

Aurora quickly bit her lips to smother the sharp giggle that rose in her belly. Well, he was a blunt old fellow…straight to the point. She found she liked that, and she placed her hand in his and gripped it firmly. “Aurora Darshaw. Former captain of the Swordfish.”

The corners of Gummy’s eyes crinkled as he grinned toothlessly. “Yer Coren’s daughter? Never thought I’d see ye again!”

Aurora’s left eyebrow rose nearly to her hairline, and the first thing that went through her head was that this old man was having some sort of senile fit. “Er…aye…I’m Coren Darshaw’s daughter. My brother Lyre is over at the table there. How the hell do you know me?”

Gummy cackled in delight. “Can’t say I’m surprised ye don’t recognize me. I’m not as handsome as I was when ye were a wee lass. I’m yer Uncle Pete, girly! I had a feelin’ about ye when I first saw ye walk in the door, but I wasn’t too sure. Ye look like a female version o’ Lythas, if I ever saw one…’cept yer hair is straight. Are those two brown haired lads at the table me nephews? Me sight’s not what it used to be.”

Aurora’s seafoam eyes went round and she sputtered, “W-what happened to you?”

Pete shrugged. “I got old, that’s what happened! Humans do that.”

Aurora suddenly felt stupid. She remembered Aunt Charlotte saying that Pete had finally gotten out of the slave auction business and took off to do what he loved best; working on ships. Anytime she was asked how her brother was doing, Charlotte would reply that he was doing just fine, as far as she knew. The subject wasn’t touched on very often. It was hard for Aurora to picture the wiry man that taught her all about sneaking up on people when she was just a little girl. “What a stroke of luck,” she finally blurted, and she hugged him tightly, feeling unaccustomed tears spring into her eyes.

“Alright, lass,” Pete said, patting her back awkwardly, “I’ll get ye a ship, even though it won’t be a very good one. It’ll get ye back to Tariff though.”

* * *

 

“Why haven’t you come to visit us in all these years, Uncle Pete?” Morgan asked as they followed the old man to the docks. Despite his aged and weathered appearance, Pete didn’t use a cane or walk with a stoop. He had as much energy now as he did so many years ago.

“Travellin’ by sea has gotten dangerous in these parts. I knew ye were all in good hands, an’ Jahlad delivered messages back ‘n forth between me and yer Ma, up ‘till a few years ago. I been meaning to head back and see ye all before I die, but trouble’s been a brewin’ between the Lashran and us trade folk. Figured I’d best lay low ‘till it passed.”

He brought them to a large fishing schooner that looked like it was ready to fall apart. “Here she is! Yer ride home.”

Aurora wrinkled her nose. “What a piece of shit! Uncle Pete, this thing couldn’t possibly outrun a Lashran warship!”

Pete took offense. “From what ye’ve told me, ye’ve got a day or more before they even start lookin’ for ye in the ocean. She’s not the fastest ship around, but she’ll take ye home safely. Don’t ye be doubtin’ me on that!” He pointed his pipestem at her to emphasize his point.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Uncle Pete,” Morgan said quickly. “Won’t it, Aurora?” He glared at the young woman.

“Er…yes, I guess she’ll have to do,” Aurora said, catching on that it wasn’t polite to insult the man that was probably saving their lives. “What’s her name, Uncle Pete?”

Pete shrugged. “Boat.”

Vurkanan hid his face in Lyre’s sleeve to muffle the giggles that were shaking his frame. “Shhh,” Lyre said with a grin to his lover.

“I cannot help it…he’s such a funny old man,” the sorcerer snorted.

Valamir stepped forward and bowed cordially to Pete. “We cannot thank you enough for this-“ he started.

Pete waved his hand negligently and said, “No need, no need. I ain’t gonna let anything happen to my niece and nephews, or any o’ their friends, for that matter. Get ye gone now. The sooner yer on yer way back to Avras, the safer ye’ll all be.” He began to push the Elder towards the boarding plank, where the crew was hauling provisions to see them through the trip.

Nicolas turned to his uncle and said, “You’re sure you won’t come with us? Mother would be happy to see you face to face again.”

Pete stopped pushing Valamir towards the ship (for which the Elder was exceedingly thankful) and shook his grizzled head. “I’ve got work to do here, yet, and that boat is gonna be packed full, by the time ye all get on board. Give yer Ma me love, and tell her I’m happy.” He shook hands with the knight, then slapped Aurora on the rump, making her yelp. “Hurry yer lads up, girlie! I feel a storm comin’ in me bones!”

Aurora glared at him, and Morgan quickly ushered her onto the boat, before her temper could get the better of her. “Take care, Gummy!” Called Vurkanan gleefully with a wave. Pete waved back at the lifebearer, shaking his head at the bizarre clothing he wore.

* * *

 

They were disconcerted to find that Pete’s words were true. The vessel they traveled in only had so much room, and there weren’t enough bunks in the sleeping quarters to go around. People took turns resting, often doubling up on the bunks so that everyone got the chance to sleep in even a crude bed. Aurora had to assign double duty to the bilge pump, as it wasn’t designed to expel as much waste as the pumps of larger ships. She was extremely thankful that the Swordfish didn’t require as many crewmembers as most other ships.

Things could have been a lot uglier if she had been forced to squeeze any more men onto the vessel. Though there were some cracks in the deck and the paint was peeling, Pete had fixed up most of the decay, and the boat was a clean vessel. Aurora grudgingly admitted that it wasn’t such a bad little schooner…it just needed more TLC.

“There’s a storm coming,” Vurkanan said to her as they stood out on the deck. The Lifebearer’s voice trembled slightly, and she patted him on the arm.

“It’ll be fine, Vurk. It’s not going to be a bad one, but we might get a bit wet. We’ll probably have to have someone at the pump constantly, until the storm ends. Can’t have us taking in too much water.”

He looked at her with admiring silver eyes and said, “I wish I knew as much about seafaring as you do.”

She flushed in pleasure at the compliment. “Well, perhaps I’ll teach you a bit about it, after we’ve gotten safely home and put this all behind us.”

* * *

 

As Aurora predicted, the storm was a minor one. The waters they sailed on remained steady, though there was quite a heavy rainfall. Valamir tossed fitfully on the bottom bunk he lay in, trying to get comfortable. His lower back was aching, and his belly was hardening. He had chosen a bunk in the very back corner of the sleeping quarters, which was as private as he could get. If he was unlucky enough to go into labor on this ship, he did not want an audience, if he could help it.

“Valamir?” came a loud whisper in the darkness.

The Elder smiled in relief. He hadn’t wanted to seem too dependent on Nicolas, so he did not ask him to join him for his resting time. Valamir couldn’t contain the slight tremor in his voice as he called out softly to the knight. “I am in the back.”

Nicolas walked carefully in the crowded cabin, worried that he might accidentally step on someone. A few of the men found the floor more comfortable than the bunks, ironically. “Ouch…dammit,” he swore as he banged his knee on the corner of one of the bunks.

Soft, strong hands suddenly took his and guided him forward. “Duck now, or you shall hit your head on the upper bunk,” Valamir whispered into his ear. Nicolas shivered, and his body responded immediately to the lashran’s proximity and the feel of his breath against his ear.

Once Valamir got him safely seated on the bunk beside him, Nicolas turned to the Elder and was momentarily startled. It was too dark to make out the details of Valamir’s features, but his eyes were quite visible. They almost seemed to be lit from within, the deep violet irises gazing at Nicolas serenely. “I never realized that lashran eyes glowed like a cat’s,” the knight murmured, surprised that he didn’t find it eerie.

Valamir smiled in the darkness and replied, “Didn’t you? You grew up around Lythallendar and his children, though.”

Nick chuckled. “That’s true, but I’ve never before seen any of your people in such darkness before. It surprised me a bit.”

Those luminous eyes became hooded, and Valamir whispered, “Does it frighten you?”

Nicolas shook his head and reached for the faint outline of the Elder’s hand. “No. It doesn’t frighten me.” He reached his other hand out and traced the Valamir’s fine-boned features, and the light of the Elder’s eyes vanished as the lids closed in enjoyment of the touch. Nicolas moved closer to him hesitantly, desiring to press his lips against Valamir’s, but afraid to do so. He was painfully aware of the aroused state that his body was in, yet he was just as painfully aware of his inexperience with someone who shared the same anatomy as he did.

Valamir smiled again, sensing the paladin’s intentions and his hesitation. Taking pity on his awkward, young human’s situation, he reached out and cupped the back of Nicolas’ head to coax his mouth to his. Nicolas went still with shock as Valamir’s mouth moved against his. The lashran’s lips were somehow firm and soft at the same time. Giving in to the feelings he had so long suppressed, the knight emitted a small, muffled groan and returned the kiss hungrily. He had intended for it to be a chaste, gentle kiss…one to be quickly ended before any of the surrounding crewmembers could guess what they were doing. Now that it was engaged, Nicolas no longer cared if they could guess what he and Valamir were doing in the darkness.

Valamir forgot about the aches and pains he was feeling in the sheer beauty of this moment. Nicolas’ mouth expressed a burning, passionate desire coupled with a tenderness that the Elder hadn’t felt for ages. He drew the paladin down with him, so that they were lying side by side and facing one another, and he gently traced the contours of Nick’s lips with his tongue.

Nicolas parted his lips and did the same, and soon their tongues were dancing together, and their bodies pressed more firmly against one another’s. They could only get so close, for Valamir’s extended belly prohibited their movements, but it was enough for them. “Oh, I do love you, Nicolas,” Valamir whispered against the other’s mouth. Nicolas broke the kiss and hugged Valamir to him, burying his face in the glorious, forest-scented mane of hair that he admired so much.

“And I you,” the knight whispered back huskily. There was little more they could do together, given the place they were in and the condition Valamir’s body was in, but neither of them truly minded. Being free to touch and kiss and hold each other was enough for them.

* * *

 

The trip back to Avras was miserable. They only had so much room for supplies, given the amount of people that they had to stuff on board, and so they were all forced to leave personal items that could not be worn behind. Each passenger could only bring one change of clothing, and the rations had to be eaten sparingly. Despite all this, they all remained in good spirits, for the simple fact that they had survived the adventure and would soon be home. During their travels, they spotted the same Lashran vessel that they had seen when they were on their way to Nandar.

Aurora ordered the men to give the galleon a wide berth, and there were collective sighs of relief when the ship passed by them peacefully. She still wondered what business the galleon had in Avras, as it was clear that it was returning to Nandar. She had Morgan contact Tsabrak again, just to be certain that everything was all right back home, and that was when she discovered that her dream hadn’t just been pent up fears.

“I can’t believe the arrogance of those bastards, coming to Tariff to kidnap my Father like that!” She fumed, pacing across the deck.

Morgan dared to approach her and put his arms around her. When she didn’t resist, he hugged her to his chest and murmured, “Just be glad that they failed, and that your Father and Tsabrak are safe. I for one am worried about what they will say to us for lying to them.”

She put her arms around his waist and allowed herself the luxury of the close contact. Her heart had become more troubled of late when she thought of where things might go between herself and Morgan. Regardless of how they felt towards one another, they were like night and day, and while he wanted a big family, she did not.

In order for a relationship between the two of them to work, she would have to give up the life that she loved to live, which would eventually make her resent him. At first, she fought against these insecurities, thinking that she was merely being selfish. Surely, sharing feelings like this with another person was worth the sacrifices, wasn’t it? Then other doubts resurfaced. She would remain young, while he would grow old and die. That was not fair to either of them. She now had more respect for her Father than she could have ever imagined, for he had shown the strength to do what she knew she could not.

Aurora buried her face in Morgan’s chest and squeezed his waist harder as the pain inside of her threatened to burst like a dam under too much pressure. Once they got home and recuperated from their ordeal, she would be faced with the hardest decision she had ever had to make in her life. Whichever choice she made would be done out of love, but damned if she knew which would be less painful. It seemed that no matter what route she chose, her relationship with the Bargel was going to end in sorrow.

Nicolas approached them at this point, and Morgan could tell by the tense set of the knight’s shoulders and the slight frown marring his features that something was wrong. “Valamir?” he asked, gently pulling out of Aurora’s arms.

Nicolas nodded curtly. “Aye. He is having mild contractions, and though he isn’t saying anything about it, I can tell that his back is paining him. I came to ask Aurora if there are any extra blankets or pillows about that I might use to make him more comfortable. Lyre is watching over him, and Vurkanan is using what little herbs he was able to take to brew a muscle relaxing tea for him.”

“Ah hells…this is all we need,” muttered Aurora. Though her words sounded callous, her tone was concerned and a line appeared between her brows. “Of course, Nick. I’ll give up my own pillow and blanket, if I have to. Should I sterilize a knife and start some water boiling?” She was no midwife, but Lythas had taught her a bit about childbirth to prepare her for any future pregnancies she might experience. She was suddenly exceedingly thankful that Vurkanan was with them. The Lashran sorcerer was a wellspring of knowledge, when it came to Lashran anatomy. He had even showed her how to make herbal droughts that would prevent conception, so that she would never need to worry about an unplanned pregnancy.

Nicolas ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged helplessly. “I wish that I knew, Aurora. Valamir tells me that labor can last for over a day, in some cases. He isn’t yet in labor, persay, but I fear that will change by tonight. How long until we dock in Tariff?”

Aurora took a moment to answer, for she had never seen Nicolas this close to being a nervous wreck, before. Always calm and collected, the paladin approached life from every angle to better understand what advantages he might have. Now, his dark brown eyes were bloodshot, his normally immaculately groomed hair was disheveled, and he sported a shadow of beard growth on his square jaw.

For Nicolas Dewinter to stop caring about keeping his appearance uniformly neat and tidy, he was bothered more than a little bit. Aurora realized that the knight had begun to tap his foot impatiently, awaiting an answer to his question. She blinked and said, “well, if we were on the Swordfish, I’d say we’d reach Tariff by tomorrow night. This tub we’re sailing in now is a lot slower, though. I’ll wager we’ll get home in a day and a half, maybe two.”

Nicolas heaved a sigh and bowed his head. “I was hoping not to hear that, but it can’t be helped. A creaky old ship filled wall to wall with men isn’t the best setting for childbirth.”

Morgan grimaced. “Aye, but neither is a locked bedroom guarded all around by Lashran. Don’t beat yourself up over this, Nick. At least Valamir’s surrounded by people who will protect him, and won’t take his baby away from him when it’s born. Besides, I’ve heard that false labor can happen a lot, in last stages of pregnancy. Maybe the contractions will stop if we get him as comfortable and relaxed as possible.”

“Come on, then…we have no time to waste!” Nicolas snapped, and then he turned and went to the hatch.

“Jeez, you’d think the baby was his, as much as he’s carrying on about it,” Aurora said as she and Morgan started after the knight.

“Well, in a sense, I think that Nicolas thinks of it as his. He spoke to me last night of adopting it when we reach Tariff. Face it, ‘Rora…my brother’s head-over-heals in love, for the first time in his life. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same again.”

* * *

 

“Easy Valamir,” soothed Lyre as he dabbed the Lifebearer’s perspiring brow with a damp cloth, “Nicolas will return any moment now.”

As if on cue, Nick hurried through the cabin and sat on the edge of the bunk, taking Valamir’s reaching hand immediately and bringing it to his lips. “How are they?” he asked of the contractions.

Valamir smiled wanly at him and replied, “They have not come closer together as yet, which gives me hope that I may not go into labor. They are painful, however.”

Nicolas grimaced as Valamir’s hand squeezed his tightly. Apparently, the Elder was experiencing one of the spasms as they spoke, and Nicolas was amazed at Valamir’s serenity and ability to chat through the pain as though it was a mild stomach cramp, instead of a contraction. The lifebearer’s face was slightly flushed, and his nostrils flared delicately with his quickening breath as the contraction played out.

It must have suddenly become stronger, for Valamir’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. A closed-mouthed moan rose in the Elder’s throat, and he stared into Nicolas’ eyes and squeezed his hand harder.

Lyre’s features tightened in sympathy as he whispered, “Is it getting worse?”

Valamir nodded wordlessly and managed another weak smile. Nicolas reached his hand out and laid his hand over the lashran’s covered belly. Feeling how hard it was, he began to rub it soothingly.

“I’ve got the tea,” Vurkanan cried as he dodged and twisted past the curious crewmembers. He held a steaming cup in his hands, which he handed to his lover. Aurora followed closely behind him with an extra pillow and blanket in her arms, and Morgan was right behind her.

While Lyre held the cup to Valamir’s lips for him to drink, Vurkanan turned around to face the crowd of men that stared with a mixture of concern and befuddlement. “Look, I know that this is rather strange and new to you all, but it is no different from any other pregnancy,” he said irritably, “so, if you’d all stop gawking at him and give us a bit more space, I am sure that Valamir will feel more comfortable. Is that a problem?”

Knowing what the sorcerer was capable of, the men obliged him and went about their business. A couple of them paused and asked if they could do anything to help, to which Vurkanan politely replied that he appreciated their offers, and he would let them know if any help was needed.

Valamir dutifully drank the bitter potion that Vurkanan had brewed for him, and Lyre helped him to lean forward so that Aurora could prop the extra pillow and blanket up behind him. “There now,” the young woman said, “is that a bit more comfortable?”

Valamir nodded and looked up at her thankfully. “It is. I thank you for your kindness.”

“Not a problem. You just let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you, love.” She said in an uncharacteristically sweet voice. Her friends and brother looked at her with open astonishment, and she ignored the looks and grasped Morgan’s arm. “I think we should leave Val and Nick alone,” she said, her gaze sweeping them all.

Lyre understood her point. It would be best not to overwhelm Valamir with their presence. “Aye…let’s go above deck and get some fresh air.”

Vurkanan took the hint and followed after his lover. He paused and looked over his shoulder at Valamir. “I will make another cup of tea for you in a couple of hours, Elder. Don’t hesitate to call for me, if there is anything I can do.” He couldn’t hide the half-frightened pity in his silver gaze, and Valamir knew then that the young sorcerer feared childbirth.

“Of course, Vurkanan,” he said gently, returning the pity with his own. It was unhealthy for a lifebearer to have such fears, if he intended to have a family at all. Valamir secretly wondered if Lyre knew how Vurkanan felt. He hadn’t known either of them for very long, but he was under the impression that Lythallendar’s son was the family sort. Perhaps, when this was all over, Valamir would have a talk with Vurkanan, to try and sooth his fears. He suspected that they were there partly because of the rape that the poor thing had been forced to endure.

Once they were relatively alone, Valamir smiled up into Nicolas’ concerned eyes. “I am glad that you returned when you did. To be honest, I am frightened, Nicolas. It has been centuries since I last bore a child, and I had forgotten what it felt like. It is as though I am having my first.” He forced a nervous chuckle and quickly reached up with his free hand to wipe at his eyes.

Valamir wasn’t quite fast enough to hide the unshed glimmer of tears in his eyes, however. Nicolas scooted closer to him and bent down to kiss him softly. “It’s alright to be afraid, Valamir. You don’t have to impress anyone here, and you can only make things worse by holding your fear in.” The paladin wondered at Valamir’s unique personality. The Elder was so very wise, and yet, so childlike in some respects. Seeing him this vulnerable and frightened caused a physical ache in Nick’s chest.

Valamir’s luminous eyes were thoughtful, and then he nodded. “Very well, then. I shall exercise my fear to the highest advantage. Hold me, and do not leave me alone again.” His smile was slightly teasing, indicating that the contraction had passed and he was feeling a bit better.

Nicolas chuckled softly and kissed him again. “As you command, sir,” he said, and he helped Valamir to scoot over and lay on his side. Nicolas stretched out behind him and pressed his body against his back. He slid his hand around the lashran’s waist and resumed his gentle massage of his swollen belly.

Valamir pressed back a bit, and Nicolas was horrified to find himself hardening against the lashran’s rounded bottom as it pushed against his groin. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, thinking himself to be quite a cad for becoming aroused at such a time.

A tiny smile curved Valamir’s lips as he felt the young man’s arousal against his backside. Knowing that Nicolas found him attractive even in the state he was in made the Elder’s heart lift. The medicine that Vurkanan had given him was making Valamir feel a bit light-headed, and the pain in his lower back began to recede. Another contraction began, but it wasn’t as painful as the last one, and the Elder sighed in relief and waited patiently for it to end. Vurkanan’s potion was a miracle.

* * *

 

Though the contractions eased somewhat, they were still occurring the next day. Vurkanan continued to brew the tea for Valamir, and he hoped that either they would reach port or the contractions would stop before he ran out of ingredients. He checked in on Valamir every hour to see how he was doing, and he complimented the Elder constantly on his bravery. Valamir finally responded by saying, “I am not so brave, youngling. Having children is a blessing, and if you view it as such, it is not as frightening. I shall have my child to hold when this is finished, and it will be worth the discomfort.”

Vurkanan read the silent message that the Elder was trying to convey to him, and he thought long and hard on it. He tried not to admit it, as it was humiliating enough to have a phobia of storms. Vurkanan began to sympathize with Aurora more, as he learned that his own fears seemed illogical to some. He had been unable to understand why Aurora was afraid of sex. After all, she had never been raped, as he had. If he wasn’t afraid of intercourse, why should she be? Now he understood her position a bit more. He had never experienced pregnancy first-hand, yet it frightened him. He suddenly felt wretched for teasing her about it.

“What’s on your mind, angel?” Lyre said as he came up beside the sorcerer and saw the pensive frown on his delicate lips.

Vurkanan sighed, “Oh, many things. Primarily whether we will reach Tariff before Valamir goes into true labor. My supplies are growing thin, and I would prefer for him to be in a more comfortable, sterile environment than a creaky old ship.”

Lyre stepped behind the sorcerer and embraced him, resting his chin on the crown of Vurkanan’s head. “We are getting quite close, Vurk. Even if Valamir goes into labor before we dock, I don’t think the baby will come before we get him to the house. Morgan is contacting Tsabrak right now, to let him know to be prepared. Tsabrak helped deliver Aurora, and from what I’ve been told, she may never have been born, if it weren’t for him. I think your brother will make things go much easier for Valamir.”

Vurkanan smiled as fondness for his older sibling rose within him. “Yes, Tsabrak has always adored children, and he has always wanted some of his own. He was studying lifebearer anatomy and childbirth long before I was conceived. Did you know that he helped my Father bring me into the world?”

Lyre’s eyebrows lifted. “No…he never told us that.”

“Well, he did. My parents could hardly get him to stop holding me, once I was born. He doted on my endlessly, and as I recall, I was quite spoiled as a child because of it. The downside is that he still treats me as a child now and then. He has always had more of a parental attitude towards me than a brotherly one.”

Lyre smiled and said, “Perhaps you should be grateful, for that. Aurora and I used to bicker like cats and dogs, except for when one of us got into trouble. I’d imagine growing up with a sibling that almost thinks of you as a son would probably mean less rivalry.”

Vurkanan tilted his head to the side in thought. “Yes, now that I think of it. Tsabrak and I have had our arguments, to be certain, but none nearly so aggressive as what I have witnessed between other siblings. I suppose I am thankful…and proud. I made him promise that if I ever became pregnant, he would deliver my son. I would not want anyone else to do it.”

Lyre nuzzled his neck and whispered, “Nor would I. I will feel much better when our children come, knowing that Tsabrak is delivering them.”

Vurkanan’s smile faded and was replaced with a slightly fearful expression. Lyre couldn’t see his lover’s expression, being behind him as he was, but he could feel him stiffen in his arms. “Did I say something wrong?” He questioned.

“No, of course not,” Vurkanan said, but his voice sounded strangely flat to Lyre.

Lyre stepped back and gently turned the sorcerer to face him. His green eyes were earnest and loving as he said, “Yes…I have said something to upset you. I can tell. Was it the comment on children?”

When Vurkanan didn’t answer, but bit his lip, Lyre put his hands on the Lifebearer’s hips and said, “I’ve put pressure on your shoulders, haven’t I? Look, I love you. There, I’ve said it. I want to take Vashekna with you someday, and hopefully have children, but please don’t take my comment to mean that I want to get you pregnant right away. We have plenty of time, Vurk. I’m willing to wait until YOU are ready.”

Vurkanan’s eyes softened, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Reaching up, he traced Lyre’s handsome, strong features with his fingertips, and he whispered, “I love you too, Lyre. I suppose I took your words the wrong way and assumed that you were planning our future without bothering to consult me about it. By the forests, I can be a paranoid lunatic when given half the chance! However do you put up with me?”

Lyre turned his head and caressed his lover’s hand with his lips. “Your virtues more than make up for your quirks. By the by, I happen to like your eccentricities. Life with you is never boring, and I would not want someone who needed my approval to do anything. I shall take my willful, independent sorcerer over a timid, frightened lover any day.”

Aurora was walking by and caught the tale end of the conversation. “Gods, you two are as dramatic as Father and Tsabrak,” she said with a curl of her lip, “it makes me physically ill!”

Vurkanan huffed indignantly and stuck his tongue out at the young woman. “When we get home and can retire to the privacy of a bedroom, you will no longer have to listen to it.”

Aurora smirked. “Then, I’ll have to think of a way to make this tub move faster. I’ve never been one for Opera, thank you.”

* * *

 

Luck was with them, for though Valamir experienced mild contractions through the rest of the trip, his labor did not begin in earnest until they had docked and were at the door to Lythas and Tsabrak’s house. Aurora was just putting the key in to unlock it, and Valamir suddenly groaned and doubled over. Nicolas put his arm around the Elder supportively, and he noticed that Valamir’s robes were wet. “I think his water has broken,” he said to the others, his brown gaze worried.

At that moment, Lythallendar opened the door. “Ah, I thought I heard someone out here,” the Lifebearer said, hugging his daughter immediately. His green eyes shifted to Valamir, and he frowned. “Elder, are you in labor?”

Valamir nodded wordlessly, too caught up in using the proper breathing rhythm to answer. “Come in quickly, all of you,” Lythas said, stepping aside. As they obeyed, he said, “We have set up the guest room for him. Take him upstairs, to the second door on the left. Tsabrak is in the basement, building a new wine rack. I shall retrieve him and let him know that you are here.”

Nicolas thanked the dark-haired Lifebearer and half-carried Valamir up the stairs and into the bedroom. The knight stretched out in the center of the bed, sitting against the headboard with his long legs parted. Motioning to Valamir, he said, “Here…this way I can hold you and try to make things more comfortable for you.”

Valamir smiled at him, appreciating the paladin’s devotion. He seated himself between Nick’s thighs and reclined, resting his back against the young man’s chest. Nicolas put his arms around the lifebearer and nuzzled his hair. His hands rubbed Valamir’s stomach in smooth, slow circles. “Are you certain that you wish to sit this way?” Valamir questioned as the contraction eased, “You could be in that position for several hours, perhaps even a full day. Is it comfortable for you?”

“’Tis comfortable enough,” Nicolas replied steadily, “If it begins to cause me pain, I shall move and lie next to you.”

Valamir turned his head so that he could gaze at Nicolas with pensive, dark violet eyes. “You will make an outstanding Sire for the little one. I wish that he were yours in every way, Nicolas.”

Nick kissed Valamir’s frowning lips and murmured, “Whether I sired him or no, I shall love him no less for it. He’s a part of you, and that’s what matters the most, here.”

Valamir stared at the knight speechlessly, feeling as though he was going to cry. If only his people could all meet such a wonderful example of Humanity, their fear of the race would diminish entirely. Any further tender words between the two of them would have to wait until later, for Tsabrak came into the room, followed by Lythas, who carried an armful of towels. “It’s good to see you again, Elder,” the pirate said with a respectful nod of his head, “thoughtful of your little one to wait until you got here to demand his freedom from the womb.”

Valamir returned Tsabrak’s kind smile and chuckled. “Indeed, it is. I cannot thank you enough for opening your home to me and offering to deliver him.”

Lythas set the towels down on one of the chairs in the bedroom and smiled down at the Elder. “It is our pleasure, Valamir. We have plenty of room, and you are all welcome to stay for as long as you like. Now, I can leave if you desire more privacy-“

Valamir reached out and grasped Lythallendar’s pale hand. “No…please stay. The presence of another lifebearer is soothing, to me.”

Noticing the slight trembling in the long hand that held his, Lythas realized that Valamir was afraid. It must not be easy for him, to come to such a strange, new place and give birth to his offspring amongst humans. “Of course, Elder. I shall pull up a chair and stay by your side. You needn’t worry yourself…my Bondmate has delivered many lashran children, and neither of us will allow any harm to come to you or your little one.”

* * *

 

“I hope that the birth will not be too hard on Valamir,” said Vurkanan with a frown as he plopped down on the couch, “ah, furniture. I had forgotten the simple pleasure of a soft cushion. No more sailing for me!”

Lyre sat down beside him and put his arm around his shoulders. “Aye. I’m looking forward to a real bath, myself. I feel as though I’ve got a layer of grime covering me!”

Aurora shook her head and grinned fondly at the two of them. “You two are such spoiled wimps. I’m going to get a brandy, would any of you like one?”

Lyre declined, but Morgan and Vurkanan took her up on the offer. As she went to the liquor shelves against the wall and poured a snifter for each of them, Aurora said, “I’m sure that Father and Tsabrak will be able to make it as easy for Valamir as possible, Vurk. Don’t get yourself worked up over it.”

Morgan smiled at her as she walked back with the glasses and passed them out. “So, what are you going to do with the ship that brought us here? Sell it, or break it up and use the wood?”

Aurora sipped her brandy and shook her head negatively. “She’s not a bad little ship, actually. She just needs some loving care. I’m thinking of finishing Uncle Pete’s work on her and keeping her for small jobs.”

Lyre looked at his sister with amused surprise. “Oh, really? I suppose you’ve thought up a name for it, as well?”

Aurora smirked. “Indeed I have. I’m going to call her The Flounder.”

They all laughed at this, and nobody could say that they weren’t at least a little fond of the small schooner, as well. Broken down or not, the boat had saved their lives and carried them safely home. “A good name, for a good ship,” Vurkanan mused, raising his glass in a toast.

“Here, here!” laughed Morgan. Once he finished his brandy, he became thoughtful. “I really should rush home and tell Mother what’s transpired, here. I’m sure she’ll want to see what she’ll consider her ‘grandson’ as soon as he comes out, and if I waste a minute in telling her, she’ll have my hide.”

Aurora smiled at the mention of the woman she and Lyre had always known as “Auntie Charlotte”. Bless her stout little heart, the old woman was sure to support her eldest son’s relationship with Valamir. In fact, she would probably demand that they Bond as soon as the counselor recovered from giving birth. “I’ll come with you, Morgan.” Aurora offered.

* * *

 

Valamir grunted softly and squeezed Nicolas’ knees as he bore down with his contraction. The draught that Tsabrak had given him made the pain more bearable, but he knew that its effect was limited. As he came closer to birthing his son, his body gave him little time to rest between the spasms. He knew that several hours had passed, but he could not count them accurately, for his mind had stopped focusing on time long ago. Lythas dabbed Valamir’s flushed, sweaty face with a damp cloth and held a cup of water to his pursed lips. The Elder sipped the cool liquid and nodded at the younger lifebearer thankfully, and Lythas smiled gently at him and put the cup back on the nightstand.

“It shouldn’t be long now, Elder,” said Tsabrak from his seat between Valamir’s parted thighs, “you’re almost fully dilated. The head should begin to crown within the next couple of pushes.”

Valamir nodded and managed a tired smile. Nicolas kissed the laboring Elder’s damp hair and looked to Tsabrak. “I must confess, I thought that it would take much longer than it has.”

Tsabrak grinned and patted Valamir’s belly. “Aye, you’ve given me too little to do. This is by far one of the smoothest births I’ve been a part of.” He didn’t add that he was amazed at how little Valamir complained. The few sounds of pain that the Elder emitted were soft gasps and the occasional grunt. Tsabrak supposed that centuries of discipline had something to do with that. He could only hope that Lythallendar would have as easy a time as Valamir did, when their firstborn came.

“I know that I was never able to be as quiet and calm when giving birth as you have, Valamir,” Lythas commented, finishing his mate’s thoughts for him, “I am certain that people could hear my screams all the way from the docks!”

Valamir laughed breathlessly, embarrassed by all the compliments. “My little one has been kind to me,” he agreed softly, “he knows that his Father is old and cannot take much strain.” He sucked in a sharp breath as another contraction hit, and Tsabrak urged him to bear down again.

“I can see the head! You’re nearly there, Valamir! Push hard!”

Valamir’s whole body went taut as he complied with the pirate’s orders, and Nicolas squeezed him gently and murmured encouragement. Tsabrak smiled in excitement as the infant’s head slowly emerged. He quickly cleared the baby’s airway and carefully grasped the tiny shoulders to ease it the rest of the way out. “Keep pushing, you’re nearly finished,” he said to Valamir. Lythas got out of his chair and peered over his Bondmate’s shoulder, a wide smile on his fair features.

Valamir groaned through the pain and concentrated on bearing down, and when he heard his son release an indignant wail, he couldn’t stop the sobs that shook him. Lythas handed Tsabrak one of the towels and the sterilized knife, and Tsabrak cut the umbilical chord and cleaned the newborn up, then bundled him in a fresh towel and cradled him. The infant’s pale lavender eyes gazed up at Tsabrak through slit pupils, inquiring and bright in the evening light. “You’ve brought a sire into the world, Valamir. Congratulations,” Tsabrak said happily, and he handed the infant to Lythas.

“He is adorable!” Lythallendar complimented as he carried the baby to Valamir’s side so that the Elder could see him, “He takes after you in eye and hair color, though both are a few shades paler than yours.” He didn’t mention that the child looked much like Bakarus, for he didn’t want to spoil the happy mood by mentioning the dangerous lashran. Valamir gazed at his new son with instant love shining in his eyes. He reached a hand out, and the tiny lad reached up and squeezed one of his long fingers.

“Well done, Valamir,” said Nicolas with an open, proud smile. He couldn’t be happier if the baby was his own.

“I’m loath to interrupt your meeting,” Tsabrak chuckled, “but I need you to push one last time, to clear the afterbirth.”

Valamir wordlessly complied, and Tsabrak finished up by cleaning the Elder as well as he could and pulling the covers over his body. “You’ve been a most excellent patient, Elder. What will you name your little one?”

Lythas placed the baby in Valamir’s eager arms, and the Elder gazed down at his son with a tender smile. “I have thought long and hard on it, and I’ve decided to name him Gavin.”

Nicolas lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a human name.”

Valamir nodded. “Yes. He will be raised among humans, and should therefore be named after them.”

* * *

 

Nicolas finally left the room so that Valamir could get some much-needed rest. He was surprised when he went downstairs to find his Mother and Jahlad in the parlor. “Mother! I meant to tell you what was happening, but I had no time to write,” he said lamely, feeling guilty for not communicating with her.

Charlotte swatted his backside and chuckled. “Too late to worry about that now! Your brother came and got us a few hours ago, and he explained everything. Now, take me upstairs so I can meet this lashran that’s managed to snag my lad’s heart, and the new baby!”

Nicolas was relieved that she was handling all of this so well. “Alright, Mother, but Valamir is sleeping, and so is the baby. You’ll need to be quiet.” He guided his mother up the stairs and to the bedroom, cracking the door open to peer in for a moment. Turning to Charlotte, he put a finger to his lips and opened the door wide for her to enter.

Charlotte looked down at the Elder, noting from past experiences with Lythas that he was likely in a healing trance. She reached out and fingered a strand of his impossibly crimson hair, admiring the shine and the way it was highlighted with scattered strands of gold. His face was beyond handsome. His jaw was strong and squared, which kept him from appearing too feminine. All in all, he was a striking creature to behold. “Well, well,” Charlotte whispered with a grin, “you’ve got good taste, my lad. If I were a younger woman, you might have some competition!”

Nicolas grinned, not at all surprised by his mother’s teasing admission. Charlotte had always had a thing for lashran men, be they sire or lifebearer. He remembered when she and Tsabrak had been lovers for a time, and though he couldn’t be certain, he also suspected that she had been more than good friends with Lythas and Coren. She was always discreet about it, but Nicolas was an observant lad from the beginning, as was Morgan. Neither brother deemed it appropriate to question the real relationship their Mother had with their unusual uncles. “Careful, if Jahlad hears you say that, you may make him jealous,” he teased.

Charlotte smirked. “Not bloody likely. Jahlad and I married because we were comfortable around each other, and he wanted a family. I needed a father figure in your lives, and he and I had the love you can only get from a close, trusting friendship. You’d be surprised at how much I could have gotten away with over the years, without him batting an eyelash!”

“But, you didn’t,” Nicolas argued.

She smiled with fondness for Jahlad. “No, I didn’t. I think I had finally had enough excitement in my life, by the time Jahlad proposed to me. I was right comfortable to settle down with him and relax. He’s a good man, he is.”

She turned towards the bassinet in the corner of the room. “I’ll be damned…that’s the same one Coren made for Lyre,” she murmured, amazed that Lythallendar had kept it after all those years. It wasn’t a fancy bassinet, but it was sturdy and well-made. She ran her fingertips along the polished, dark cherry wood as she gazed down at the sleeping infant inside. “Oh, I forgot how tiny lashran babes are when they’re born! Isn’t he a little angel?”

Nicolas quietly stepped up beside her and grinned down at the child he was to adopt. “Aye. He’s an inquisitive little fellow. He seemed to be fascinated with the embroidery on my tunic, when I was holding him earlier.”

Charlotte took him by the arm and ushered him out of the room with her. Once they were in the hallway and the door was shut, she said, “So, what are your plans for the future then, love? Are you going to resign from the knighthood? If you’ll pardon my saying so, military men don’t make the best parents or husbands. Your lashran and his babe are going to need you around, and being in the Order of the Wolf might hinder that.”

Nicolas frowned and nodded. “I know, Mother. I intend to resign and build my breeding farm for Chargers. I don’t think my superiors will mind so much, when they learn that I shall supply horses for the Order at half the price I will charge others.”

She smiled up at him and caressed his stubble-roughened cheek. “You’re really going to go through with it, are you? I never thought I’d see the day that you’d love something more than being a knight.”

Nicolas lowered his gaze modestly. “Neither did I.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Valamir didn’t wake from his deep slumber for two days. That he trusted them enough to go into a full healing trance flattered Tsabrak. Meanwhile, Nicolas took care of the newborn, with Lythallendar’s help. It was quite funny; watching how awkwardly the knight held his adopted son. “He is not a china dish, Nicolas,” Lythas scolded him with a smile, “you needn’t hold him so gingerly. In fact, you must be certain that you have a firm hold on him. Otherwise, you could accidentally drop him if he shifts too much in your arms.”

“Here, I’ll show you,” Tsabrak said, holding his hands out to take the tiny infant. Nicolas handed Gavin over to the pirate and watched as Tsabrak cradled him in his arms. “There now. Hold him against your chest like so, tilted towards you. This leaves your other hand free to feed him from the bottle. Of course, it’s always best to sit down and hold him in your lap. It’s safer that way.”

Nicolas followed the pirate to the couch in the parlor and watched as he held the bottle to the little one’s mouth. Vurkanan was sitting on the same couch, and he gazed at the infant with curious, uneasy silver eyes. Seeing his brother’s expression out the corner of his eye, Tsabrak fought a grin. “Here, Vurk. You’ve not yet introduced yourself properly to little Gavin. Why don’t you feed him, this time?”

The sorcerer’s eyes widened and he held his hands out, palms up, in a warding gesture. “Ah, no thank you.” He ignored the amused smile Lyre shot at him from the other side of the room.

Tsabrak lifted the child, making sure he didn’t take the bottle away (Gavin’s miniscule hands were grasping it tightly anyways), and held him out towards Vurkanan. “Oh, come now. He’s only a little thing, Vurk! He can’t hurt you. Don’t be silly!”

“Damn it, Tsabrak,” protested Vurkanan, trying to inch away from the baby that was being slowly laid into his lap, “I know what you are trying to do. I am no good with babies!” His sibling continued to lay the child in his lap, and Vurkanan certainly wasn’t going to stand up and let the poor thing roll onto the floor. He scowled at Tsabrak and sat the child on his knee, almost holding him at arm’s length.

“What are you doing? You must support his head, Vurkanan. His neck hasn’t grown strong enough, yet.” Lythallendar gently advised him.

Vurkanan shot the other lifebearer an annoyed look and clumsily cupped the back of the child’s head with his hand. Lythas was younger than he was…it was rather humbling that he was lecturing Vurkanan. Of course, Lythallendar had born two children already, and his third was on the way. It only made sense that he knew more about these things than a paranoid sorcerer did.

Almost as if he could read Vurkanan’s troubled thoughts, Lythas gave him a sympathetic look and said, “Go easy on yourself. You will catch on to this before you know it. It becomes second nature in no time at all.”

Though he was smiling gently at the sorcerer, Lythas was slightly troubled. He knew that his son wanted children someday, as Lyre was very much like him. Would Vurkanan’s obvious reluctance cause strife in their relationship later on? Vurkanan finally found a position to shift Gavin in that was comfortable to both of them, and his stiff posture relaxed, somewhat. “Well now, this isn’t so bad,” he commented nervously, “rather like having a puppy in my lap. Except that Gavin does not squirm as much.”

Lyre crossed the room and sat down beside his lover, a wide grin on his handsome features as he gazed down at the baby. “He’s certainly a cute little fellow, isn’t he?”

Vurkanan shrugged. “If you like bald, wrinkly things. Certainly.” Despite his rather unkind words, he was smiling as well.

“You were once ‘bald and wrinkly’ yourself, youngling,” came a new voice from the stairwell. Everyone turned to see Valamir stepping down the stairs carefully. The Elder looked rather tired, but his expression was one of utter content. Nicolas vaulted from his seat on the high-backed chair in the corner and rushed to Valamir’s side, offering his support. Valamir chuckled in amusement and said, “Really Nicolas, you mustn’t fuss so. People give birth all of the time, and I am…” he paused thoughtfully, a delicate frown upon his brow as he searched for the Human words to use, “feeling dandy.”

Nicolas flushed slightly and smiled, embarrassed by his over-protective behavior and relieved at the same time. “My apologies, Valamir. It’s just that you’ve been asleep for two days, and I was worried that you might not have your balance, yet.”

Valamir smiled and put his arm around the knight’s waist. “No need to apologize. I am touched that you care so.”

“I meant no offence, Elder,” Vurkanan said in mortification as Valamir carefully seated himself on the sorcerer’s other side.

Lythas raised his eyebrows at the tone of deep respect in Vurkanan’s voice. Though he knew that everyone in the room looked up to Valamir and thought kindly of him, Vurkanan was not usually the sort to express his respect in such a manner.

“Oh no, Vurkanan. I was merely teasing you. I know that you do not truly believe my son is ugly. I can see that by the doting smile that was on your face as you spoke.” Smiling, he held his hands out, and Vurkanan immediately relinquished the baby to him. Whether the relief on the sorcerer’s face was due to Valamir not taking umbrage with his thoughtless words, or whether it was because he no longer had to hold the baby, was anyone’s guess.

Valamir gently took the bottle from Gavin and looked around with searching eyes. “Oh…here,” Tsabrak said, quickly handing a soft, clean washrag to the Elder. Valamir thanked him and placed the rag over his shoulder, then rested the infant against it and gently patted his back.

“Where are young Aurora and Morgan?” Valamir wanted to know.

Lyre smirked. “They said that they were going to the docks to take notes on what parts of The Flounder Aurora wants to work on first, but they had a look in their eyes.”

“What sort of look?” Tsabrak questioned with a frown.

Lyre met his Father’s eyes before answering Tsabrak. By the trepidation in Lythallendar’s bright, green eyes, he had also drawn the same conclusion. “Well sir, Aurora always gets a look about her when she’s about to start some sort of trouble. Father and I have it down to an art, reading that look. It’s not that she consciously attempts to cause trouble, mind you, it’s just the usual outcome of whatever action it is that she’s planning. I think ‘Rora’s always going to be a bit reckless.”

Vurkanan shook his head. “No…I think you are wrong this time,” he said with an apologetic shrug for arguing, “I could feel something different about Aurora when she and Morgan left today.”

Knowing Vurkanan’s abilities as he did, Lythas didn’t take any offence at his contradiction. “Different in what way?”

Vurkanan lowered his eyes and plucked delicately at the edge of the quilt that covered the couch he sat on. “It is difficult to say. I felt a conflict within her, yet at the same time, I felt that she was resolved in something. She seemed to be arming herself mentally, as one might arm themselves for battle. Does that make any sense at all?”

Alarm bells went off inside of Lythallendar’s head at Vurkanan’s words. He knew that Aurora’s resolve not to enter a relationship with Morgan had wavered over the months that had passed. She had grown attached to the young Bargel, despite her sincere efforts not to. Lythas had hoped and prayed that his daughter would resolve her fears and give herself and Morgan the chance to love one another, as they both deserved. Now, he was forced to admit what he had been trying to deny; once they had returned home and life began to resume its normal course, Aurora no longer had the element of danger to soften her heart. With a heavy sigh, Lythas said, “Yes Vurkanan. It does make sense.”

* * *

 

“Why, Aurora?” His voice was shaking and raw, and his kind, dark eyes pleaded with her, begging to understand. “Why now? Things were going so well between us. I thought that I might finally have gotten through to you!”

They were on the deck of the schooner that had carried them faithfully home. She wouldn’t look at him. Instead, her blue gaze remained focused on the horizon, away from the hustle and bustle of the docks. “Will you at least look at me when you toss me aside?!” Morgan shouted, grabbing her arm to turn her.

She deftly twisted out of his grasp and glared at him, and he took a step back. “I don’t understand, ‘Rora,” he whispered painfully.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling just as much pain as Morgan was feeling. “I know you don’t, Morgan. You just have to trust me on this. The idea of you and I together is wonderful, but the reality wouldn’t be. We’re too different, and I don’t just mean racially. You want to spend your time studying, and your idea of the perfect future is to settle down and start a family. I thought for a little while that I could live that dream, too.” She sniffled and looked away, and he tried to put his arms around her.

“Don’t!” Aurora warned, stepping back, “I’m not going to change my mind. Listen, if I was to go along with your dream, I would be trapped and miserable, and I’d eventually come to resent you. I know that you’d feel the same, whether you want to admit it or not. You wouldn’t be able to cope with your wife sailing the oceans, pirating and exploring. Not for very long. I know that you would try, but eventually, you would get frustrated that I don’t stay at home with you and raise a family.”

Morgan shook his head. “No, Aurora. I’d never try to change you. If I did, I’d lose what I love so much about you! Why can’t you give it a chance? We could compromise! We could work something out that will make both of us happy. I only want to be with you.”

“Well, that’s a very nice sentiment, and I wish that it could be that way,” she said, her eyes misting over, “but whether you’d mean to or not, you would try to change me, and I would try to change you. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us, Morgan. Go find yourself a wife that can give you what you want. I’m not what you need. I’m sorry.” She turned away from him again and hugged herself, looking at the floor of the deck. “Please…just go.”

He stood there, frozen. Something within him iced over at that point. The pain of her rejection was too intense, and too deep. “You are a selfish little twit,” he growled, “I gave you my heart and you threw it out like so much dead fish. Fine then. I’ll take your advice, and find myself a wife who can give me what I need. Obviously, asking for love from a stone-cold bitch like you was too much.”

Aurora winced, but didn’t turn. She listened to his receding footsteps and stared with feverishly dry eyes at the setting sun. She deserved every word he said, she supposed. She never should have let things go as far as they did. By doing so, she had caused more pain than she ever would have thought possible.

Without taking her eyes off of the sunset, she reached into the long jacket she wore. Her fingers slipped into an inner pocket and found the smooth, hard comfort of the belt of whiskey she had brought for this occasion. “Well Sire…it seems that you and I have a common habit of hurting those that we love,” she whispered to Coren Darshaw’s spirit. The pirate had once rejected her Father as cruelly as she had just done with Morgan. The difference was, she had no intention of going back on it, for unlike her parents, she and the Bargel were both better off apart from each other.

* * *

 

“Lythas, I really don’t think that you should be going out at this hour on your own,” Tsabrak argued as his mate settled his cape around his shoulders and holstered a musket at his hip, “at least allow me to come with you.”

Lythas squared his jaw and shook his head stubbornly. “No, Tsabrak. Judging by the state that Morgan was in when he came by and announced that my daughter was a heartless wench, the fight that they had was very bad. She will come home with me, if I ask her to. Please, trust me in this.”

Tsabrak sighed, looking into the worried, emerald eyes that continued to awe him each and every day. “Alright, love. I shall concede, for now. However, if you aren’t back within an hour, I am going to come searching for you.”

Lythas nodded. “Very well.” Looking at Lyre’s worried expression, he said, “I will bring her back. I promise that we will both be fine.” Without waiting for anyone to voice another argument, Lythas opened the door and stepped outside. He knew where Aurora was likely to be. Like Coren, she sought the ocean to comfort her when she was in pain. So, he walked down the path leading to his home and waited for a ferry to come by.

* * *

 

Aurora blinked up at the sky overhead, unable to distinguish one star from the next. They were all blurry from her alcohol-induced haze, and she could swear that there were two moons instead of one, grinning identical crescent smiles down at her.

“Oh yeah, I’ll bet you think this is real funny,” she accused the twin moons, offended that they could be smiling when she was so miserable. She lay flat on her back on the deck of The Flounder, with her empty flask lying beside her. She thought about getting up, because surely there was a chill wind blowing tonight, but the whiskey was keeping her warm and the wooden deck was surprisingly comfortable.

“Aurora?”

The soft, melodic voice seemed to be coming from the blurred moons overhead, and she smiled. “How’d you know my name?”

A shadow fell over her, and she squinted and tried to bring the figure standing over her into focus. Tumbling waves of hair, blacker than night framed a blurred face (which incidentally kept trying to become two faces). Brilliant green eyes glowed down at her from the blurred face, and she finally realized who the speaker was.

“Hullo Daddy,” she mumbled thickly, “I’m jus talking to th’ moons.”

Lythallendar sighed and circled her prone form, then lowered himself to the deck to sit beside her. His elegant fingers reached out and combed gently through her disheveled hair, which was as raven dark as his own. “Come home, Aurora. It is not safe for you to be here, in this state.”

If she were sober, he would have merely come to offer his support and comfort, but he wasn’t about to leave his little girl lying on this ship like this. The fact that she hadn’t immediately reached for a weapon or vaulted into a defensive stance when he first spoke told him that she was in no condition to defend herself. He didn’t trust the lads that were assigned to watch over the ship not to take advantage of a beautiful young woman in the stupor that Aurora was in.

“I don’t deserve to go home,” she murmured petulantly, breathing alcohol fumes in Lythas’ face as she clumsily sat up and faced him, “I’m a stone-cold bitch.”

“Oh now,” Lythas soothed, “don’t take Morgan’s words to heart, dearest. He was hurt, and he could not understand your rejection. I do understand, Aurora. You did what was best, for the both of you.”

She heaved a wet sob and suddenly hugged him around the waist, burying her face against his chest. “But you and Sire made it work. Why couldn’t I?”

He stroked her hair and rocked her gently. “Coren and I had a different sort of relationship than what you and Morgan had, darling. Ours was a more symbiotic union, with no issues of dominance. Though Morgan is a gentle spirit, he did want a different lifestyle than you. I am sorry, Aurora. I encouraged you to allow your feelings to blossom, and I have caused you both pain for it. Perhaps I was attempting to change you as well, for I worry over you constantly.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, squeezing him for emphasis.

Lythas frowned. “Perhaps not entirely, but I did not accept your word for it when you said that you did not wish to fall in love with a human. I pushed you in his direction, even though I knew, deep down, that you were right.”

She began to cry in earnest, now. “But, I wasn’t right…I was weak! Other women make sacrifices for their men. I couldn’t do it! I’m selfish.”

Lythas cupped her chin and forced her to raise her head so that he could look into her eyes. “You are not selfish, Aurora. You gave up someone you love, so that they could follow their own dream. It has hurt you both, but you were wise enough to know that it would have hurt much worse if things had continued. You did a very brave, very difficult thing, youngling.”

She sniffled and stared at him dubiously, and he wiped her tears from her cheeks with the edge of his cape. “Come now. Come home with me, and let us get you into bed,” he pleaded.

“Alright, Father. I’ve done enough damage without making you worry about me,” she agreed.

* * *

 

“Will she be alright?” Vurkanan asked Lythas as the raven-haired lifebearer returned to the parlor.

“Yes, she merely needs to sleep it off,” Lythas said with a sigh, and he plopped down on the loveseat across from Valamir. “I made up one of Coren’s old ‘hangover cure’ drinks for her to have before she goes to sleep. Hopefully she will not suffer too badly tomorrow.” Looking around, he noticed that Nicolas was absent. “Where did Nick go?”

“He went to make sure that Morgan got safely to Charlotte’s house,” answered Valamir, “he worried that the young sorcerer might go on a binge as Aurora did, and he did not want to risk him coming to harm.” The Elder stood up and finished, “I am going to put Gavin to bed. Is there anything that I may do to help the situation?”

“It is kind of you to ask, Elder…but no. I doubt that there is much that any of us could do to help either of them, at this point,” Lythallendar replied sadly.

Vurkanan massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He had planned to tell Tsabrak the bad news about their parents, but with all of the upset that was already happening, he decided it was best to wait. After all, Tsab had already resolved himself to their parents’ deaths. Feeling overwhelmed by the endless stream of complications that were plaguing his new family, Vurkanan rested his head on Lyre’s shoulder and murmured, “I think it is time for me to retire for the evening. Wake me if you need me for anything, Lyre.”

Lyre looked at his lover with concern in his eyes and whispered, “Are you alright, Angel? It’s rather early, still.” Vurkanan normally stayed up late, being a nocturnal creature.

The sorcerer gave Lyre a tired smile and kissed him softly on the lips. “Oh yes, I’m fine. I think that the events of the past few days has simply worn me out, finally.”

Lyre hugged him briefly. “I understand. I shouldn’t be too far behind, actually.”

Vurkanan winked and purred, “I don’t mind if you wake me when you come to bed, Lion.”

Lyre blushed profusely and cast an uncomfortable look at his Father, for Vurkanan had spoken loudly enough for those in the room to hear his invitation. Lythallendar was grinning and shaking his head in amusement, having finally gotten used to Vurkanan’s outrageous personality. He couldn’t look directly at his embarrassed son, for he was afraid that if he did he might burst into laughter.

Tsabrak, however, wasn’t as understanding as his mate. He cleared his throat and muttered, “Sometimes it’s a wonder that Vurkanan and I are siblings.”

* * *

 

Nicolas didn’t return to the Darshaw house until after midnight. Lythas gave him a key so that he could let himself in, so he did not have to wake anyone by ringing the doorbell. Tsabrak and Lythas were both awake and playing a game of chess in the parlor when the knight came into the house. “Well lad, how is your brother?” Tsabrak questioned gently.

Nicolas ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “He’s in a bad way. I convinced him to go home to Mother and drink his sorrows away there, instead of at the tavern where he could get into trouble.”

“Oh? How did you manage to do that? Morgan didn’t seem very agreeable when he stopped by earlier,” Lythas said.

Nicolas wordlessly raised his left hand, which was his primary hand. The knuckles were bruised. “I didn’t use words,” he said miserably, “he refused to listen to me, and he tried to strike me. I hope that he’ll forgive me his split lip when he wakes up.”

Lythallendar’s mouth rounded and his eyes widened. “Oh…I see. Here, let us get some ice onto that hand.” He hurried into the kitchen then.

“How about a glass of brandy, to calm your nerves?” Offered Tsabrak, “Or perhaps gin?”

“No, thank you. I think that if I tried to drink anything right now, I would only be sick. My nerves are so frayed that my stomach feels as though it’s in a knot.” He seated himself numbly on one of the high backed chairs in the parlor and sighed.

“May I suggest something, Nicolas?” said Tsabrak gently. When the knight merely nodded permissibly, Tsabrak continued, “Perhaps you should spend the night with your new intended. Valamir was quite concerned over both you and your brother, and I think that he could give you some much needed comfort.”

When Nicolas opened his mouth to protest, Tsabrak held his hand up and said, “Now, hear me out lad. I’m not suggesting you jump his bones or whatnot. I know that you are trying to take your time with him. All that I am saying is that you would find it surprisingly therapeutic to be in the arms of someone who cares for you. You’ve had a rough time of it, and I think you deserve a bit of comforting. You can take it or leave it…I just thought that I might suggest it.”

Nicolas quietly considered this, finding the suggestion to be more than tempting. The problem was that he still wasn’t sure how to handle this new, unfamiliar bond that he shared with Valamir. He wanted him, certainly. He just had no idea how to go about doing things. Were the Elder a woman, he would at least have some sort of experience, and he could be certain that he was doing the right thing in being a gentleman and not sharing a bed with him.

However, Valamir was no more female than Nicolas himself was. How did one go about courting someone of the same gender? Furthermore, he did not want to jeopardize the easy friendship that they shared. What would be insulting or pressuring for a woman might not be so for a Lifebearer. After all, just because Valamir could bear children did not necessarily mean that his desires were any different from any other man’s.

A soft chuckle broke through Nick’s contemplation, and he focused his deep brown eyes on Tsabrak and raised his brows questioningly. “Forgive me, Nick,” the pirate said with a smile, “it’s just that I can nearly hear gears turning in your head. You had an almost painful look of concentration on your features. Can I help at all?”

Nicolas started to say no, but upon thinking it over, he changed his mind and nodded. “Well, as you know, I’m not very good at talking about my feelings,” he said with a shrug, to which Tsabrak nodded patiently. “I…suppose that I do need your advice. Otherwise, I might accidentally ruin what I have with Valamir before it has even begun.”

Tsabrak wanted to say that the chances of him “ruining” it were very slim, but he knew how difficult it was for Nick to speak about his private life to anyone, so he did not interrupt. “Go on, Nick.”

The paladin cleared his throat nervously and said, “Tell me, are lifebearers very different from women? I’m a bit confused about how to approach Valamir. I thought about treating him as I would any lass I was interested in, but then I reconsidered. He’s not a lass, and I’ve never been involved with a man before. Are they more like men, or women?”

Tsabrak understood the young man’s confusion. While it was clear at first glance that lifebearers were male, the fact that they could carry children tended to make humans think of them in a feminine light. He remembered how awkward he was when he courted his first human woman, as he had no idea what they might find charming and what might earn him a slap in the face.

“That is a very good question, Nicolas. You certainly aren’t the first to voice confusion over how to treat lifebearers. I will explain to the best of my ability. lifebearers share traits of both men and women. Nature made them that way, so that they would be more nurturing and willing to bear children. Let’s face it…if giving birth were left up to sires and men, both humans and lashran would have become extinct long ago.”

Nicolas chuckled lightly as Tsabrak winked. “Yes, that does make sense. Go on.”

“Well, lifebearers aren’t as aggressive as men and sires, but they are not as unpredictable emotionally as women are. I don’t mean any offence to women,” he added hastily, “I just mean that lifebearers are a tad easier to understand than women, as they’re closer to us in personality. Most lifebearers tend to have a youthful innocence, to some extent or another. You may have noticed how delighted they can become over things that you or I take for granted.”

Remembering Valamir’s reaction to seeing a book for the first time, Nicolas smiled and nodded.

Tsabrak continued, “The easiest way for you to begin would be to view Valamir as a lad. Yes, I know that he is over a thousand years your senior, but as I said, lifebearers never completely lose their ‘youth’. He is like you in every way, except that he is more sensitive emotionally, and more attuned with nature. If you treat him like a woman, he may become offended and assume that you are patronizing him. I can tell you quite honestly, it’s a fair bit easier to have a relationship with a lifebearer than it is to have one with a woman…simply because women are so very different from us, and therefore we cannot get into their heads. Do you understand?”

Nicolas nodded slowly. “I think so. You seem to be saying that I should treat him almost in the same way I treat other men, with the exception that I flirt with him?”

Tsabrak snorted and pinched his lips with his fingers for a moment to control the laughter that rumbled in his throat. “Well, that’s close enough. Bringing him flowers or candy might earn you a raised eyebrow, but if you notice him eyeing anything in a shop, buying it for him as a surprise will thrill him just as much as it would any lass.”

Nicolas nodded. “Ah, I think I see. Thank you, sir.”

Tsabrak leaned forward and whispered, “There’s more to it than that though, lad. There are other things you should know about lifebearers that might help your confidence when the two of you…ahem…share your first intimate moment.”

The pirate snapped his mouth shut and sat back at that moment, for Lythas returned to the loungeroom with a leather bladder in his hands. “Here, I’ve filled this with ice chips from the meat preserver,” he said as he approached the young man and gently laid the bladder on top of Nick’s swollen knuckles, “you hold that there for a half an hour or so. It should bring down the swelling a bit.” Lythallendar’s delicate mouth turned down in a frown as he noticed the flushed condition of the young man’s face. “You are not getting a fever, are you?” he asked in concern, reaching out to put his palm over Nick’s forehead.

Nicolas shook his head, having no intention of telling Lythallendar that his mate had been ready to give him sexual pointers for his first encounter with Valamir. “Uh, I think that I might be. Perhaps I should retire for the evening.”

Lythas smiled. “Yes, you should. The best remedy for an aching body is often rest.”

Nicolas glanced at Tsabrak uncomfortably, curious in spite of himself to know what the pirate had been hinting at. “Later,” Tsabrak mouthed with a wink. Nicolas sighed and bid them both goodnight, then made his way up the staircase. He pondered over what Tsabrak was going to tell him. Was sex completely different with a Lashran, or was he merely going to advise him on making love with a male?

Of course, sex with Valamir was going to be completely different from any encounter Nicolas had experienced in his young life. The thought made him both nervous and excited. Would he be able to control his chaotic desires, should he share a bed with Valamir tonight? He liked to think that he could…especially considering that Valamir had given birth only a few days ago. Concern for the lashran’s well-being would certainly keep Nick’s hormones in check for a while, but he wondered how quickly that control would slip, once Valamir had recovered fully. Steeling himself, he went down the hall and stopped at the door to the room that the Elder was staying in.

* * *

 

Valamir was woken from his doze by a soft knock on his door. “Valamir? May I come in?”

The Elder smiled at the pleasant fluttery sensation in his abdomen at the sound of Nick’s voice. “Certainly,” he answered without hesitation, fully awake now. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep completely, anyway. It was strange and frightening to be in this new environment, even for someone as stalwart as Valamir was. Having Nicolas nearby worked as a soothing balm on his nerves.

The knight opened the door and stepped into the room. For a moment, he stood at the threshold, clearly indecisive. “Please, come in,” Valamir said warmly, “Lythas has convinced me that Gavin will be safe in the nursery, so you needn’t worry about waking him.” Indeed, Valamir had been afraid to let his tiny son out of his sight from the moment he woke from his healing trance. Lythas had gently explained to him that the nursery was right next door to the Elder’s room, and he could hear Gavin if he woke, quite easily.

Deciding that he was being silly and possibly insulting his kind hosts by insinuating that he did not trust them, Valamir had finally given in. He had to admit, it was a good idea. He had no way of knowing just when it would happen, but sooner or later, Valamir felt that he and Nicolas would be getting to know one another in more ways than talking, and he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of his son being in the same room if they made love.

Nicolas closed the door behind him, opening his eyes wide in the darkness as he made his way across the room. Realizing that the moonlight filtering in through the curtains of the window wasn’t enough light for the young human, Valamir reached over to the nightstand by his bed and picked up the box of matches there. He lit the oil lamp sitting on the nightstand, and he smiled when Nicolas breathed a relieved sigh. “Forgive me, I always forget that human vision is different from my own,” Valamir whispered.

Nicolas smiled at him, appreciating that the Elder was trying not to call attention to the fact that lashran vision was, in fact, superior to human vision. He was so modest and polite, and kind. Nicolas couldn’t help but be in awe of him. To have such a beautiful, wise creature extend his warmth to him was an honor he had never expected to receive. It almost felt wrong to have sexual desire for Valamir. Almost.

As the soft lamplight fell upon the Elder’s deceptively youthful, sculpted features, Nicolas couldn’t stop himself from scanning Valamir’s form and pausing at the sight of the exposed bit of bronzed chest that teased him from the open V of the Lashran’s nightshirt. Vurkanan had given the Elder a few of his own pajamas, as the sorcerer rarely used them himself, and Valamir was temporarily without a wardrobe of his own.

The long shirt was dark purple in coloring, matching Valamir’s eyes. It suited him, and though it was a modest garment, for some reason Nicolas felt his desire heating by looking at Valamir in it. His dark eyes stayed on the lifebearer’s chest for a few moments, admiring the way Valamir’s pectorals were toned beneath the flawless skin. It looked as though the skin would be even softer to the touch than the silk that partially concealed it, and Nicolas swallowed as he imagined slipping his hand into the opening and exploring that bronzed chest.

Valamir gazed up at the knight and felt his heartbeat quicken. Nicolas wanted him…that much was obvious. The counselor made no move to button his nightshirt and hide his flesh from Nick’s sight, though his morals told him that he was inviting trouble by allowing this young human to caress him with his eyes. “Come, sit beside me,” Valamir offered softly, scooting over to make room for the paladin.

Nick’s warm, mahogany gaze snapped back up to Valamir’s eyes, startled. His strong cheekbones flushed the slightest bit as he seemed to realize that his companion knew exactly what was going on in his mind. “I don’t know if that would be proper,” he said huskily.

“Whyever not?” Valamir said with mock surprise. “Did you not come to speak with me, to bid me goodnight?” He was flirting. He knew that he shouldn’t, for Nicolas was frightened of the feelings he had. Valamir knew this, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from taking an initiative. He would guide Nicolas into it, and show him that there was nothing to fear.

Nicolas lowered his gaze and murmured, “Indeed, I wished to see you before I retire for the evening. I always wish to be near you. It’s like I cannot find peace, except when I’m with you.” He shook his head and laughed softly. “I can’t believe that I just said that out loud. I’m beginning to sound like Lyre.”

Valamir felt adoration swell in his breast, and he reached out and took Nick’s hand in his. “Oh!” he said in surprise upon noticing the bruised state of the knuckles, “what has happened here?” He gently drew the knight to the bed and coaxed him to sit down on the edge of it. “Talk to me, Nicolas.”

Despite his misgivings about this situation, Nick found himself sitting beside Valamir and telling him all that happened with Morgan. By the time he was finished, the Elder’s long fingers were kneading his shoulders in a pleasant massage. Nicolas closed his eyes and felt the tension in his shoulders melting beneath Valamir’s talented hands. “I hope that he won’t hold it against me,” he mumbled, referring to his brother’s split lip.

He was startled as warm lips suddenly caressed his neck. “He will not,” Valamir whispered, “your brother loves you and admires you. When his pain is no longer raw, he will understand why you struck him.”

Valamir felt the knight shiver in response to his soft kisses, and he continued to explore the left side of Nicolas’ neck with his mouth. The skin was rougher than lashran skin, and strangely appealing to the taste. Valamir sucked gently and slid his hands down Nick’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing the hard muscles gently as he went. He hadn’t felt such strong sexual urges since he had been with his first bondmate. Coupled with the love for Nicolas that was growing in his breast, it made him dizzy. Nick’s head lolled and he sighed, which encouraged Valamir further. He reached around the front and began to unbutton Nicolas’ shirt.

“Valamir-“ Nicolas said in a warning tone.

“Shush. I know what I am doing,” the Elder responded in a droning purr. The knight quieted and trembled as Valamir continued to open his shirt. He continued to place feathery kisses on Nick’s neck as he exposed his muscular chest and began to explore it with deft hands. There was no hair on the paladin’s chest, which surprised Valamir. He hadn’t actually seen a bare-chested human before, but from what he understood, most men had hair on their chest and abdomen. It pleased him that Nicolas was bereft of it, for it made the experience of exploring him a bit less alien to Valamir. The knight trembled, and the hard knots of muscle beneath Valamir’s questing hands tensed and relaxed alternately as his fingers glided along the skin.

He circled Nick’s nipples with his fingers, rubbing the tips until they hardened. A soft groan escaped Nicolas’ lips, and Valamir gently squeezed the tight buds and sucked harder on his neck. He repositioned himself so that the paladin sat between his legs, with his back resting against his chest. He pushed his hips forward, allowing Nicolas to feel the hardness of his erection against his backside. Valamir smiled as his young lover made a hoarse sound of arousal and moved his body against his in answer. He slipped his hands lower, stroking the flexing abdominal muscles as he moved. “Kiss me,” he murmured, nibbling Nick’s ear.

Nicolas turned his head and obeyed, meeting the lashran’s silken lips hungrily. Valamir’s tongue slipped past his lips and thrust into his mouth, and Nicolas was startled by the possessive, demanding move. He hadn’t expected it to be like this. He had assumed that Valamir would be a passive force in the bedroom, but he was quickly learning differently. Instead of bothering him, as he would have thought such aggressiveness would, it aroused him further. He was vaguely thankful that he had shaved earlier, for Valamir was kissing him with almost bruising force, and if Nicolas’ face had been rough with stubble, the Elder surely might have been turned off.

Valamir suppressed a groan as his hunger sharpened, and he had to forcibly remind himself to take it slow with Nicolas. His handsome young human was like the war horses that he fancied: sleek, powerful, proud and noble. Like a skittish stallion, he must be reigned in patiently and carefully. Valamir didn’t want to spook Nick by letting his lashran appetites override his common sense. He wanted to let his hands drop between the paladin’s legs, so that he could fondle his most sensitive parts, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he slid his hands down Nick’s hips and stroked his thighs. The muscles there were as hard and powerful as the rest of the Human, and they predictably clenched nervously as Valamir kneaded them.

“Relax Nicolas,” Valamir breathed against the knight’s lips, “I promise that I will not hurt you.”

Nick chuckled breathlessly. “Forgive me. This is all so new to me.”

Valamir smiled and nuzzled his neck. “I know. Just try and relax. I shall do the rest.”

Nicolas took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and Valamir resumed his soft kisses along the paladin’s neck and jaw. The Elder’s hands caressed the insides of Nick’s thighs, and Valamir enjoyed the power he felt beneath his fingers. He coaxed Nicolas to part his thighs a bit, and his fondling moved closer to the knight’s hardened groin. Nick’s breath quickened and a deep-throated purr rose in his throat as he shifted. He wanted those long hands to cup the aching stiffness between his legs. He anticipated how wonderful it was going to feel, and a light sheen of perspiration broke out on his brow.

Valamir delayed touching the knight where he so desperately wanted to. He listened to Nick’s heavy breathing and analyzed his body’s reactions as he caressed him, waiting for the perfect moment to proceed as he wished. Nicolas tilted his head back, resting it on Valamir’s shoulder. His hips pushed forward of their own accord, and Valamir moved his hands to the laces of his breeches.

He nuzzled Nicolas’ neck as he untied the fastenings and parted the material. Then he curled his fingers about the girth of the exposed organ and began to stroke it gently. Nicolas gasped and turned his head to kiss Valamir hard on the mouth. The knight’s larger hand covered the lashran’s stroking one, not dissuading its touch so much as encouraging it. He felt a hot ache shoot through his groin and belly, and he wanted nothing more than to have Valamir soothe it.

Valamir whispered calming words in the Lashran tongue, too caught up in his passion to worry about translating. In his pleasure-fogged state, Nicolas only understood the words “easy” and “gentle”, but the language was so fluid and musical that the words still had the desired effect. Nicolas held himself still and relaxed his body, focusing only on the sensation of Valamir’s touch and his soft endearments. The lashran’s hand gripped him firmly and slid up and down the length of his manhood in a slow caress.

“That feels wonderful,” Nicolas sighed against Valamir’s lips. The Elder’s touch was perfect. He squeezed the member firmly, but not so hard that it became uncomfortable, and the slow, patient rhythm of his strokes was just right.

Valamir kissed him and explored his chest and abdomen with his free hand. He felt the rise and fall of Nicolas’ chest, felt the hammer of his heartbeat against his palm. “Tell me what you want, Nicolas,” he murmured, dragging his lips down the knight’s jaw and neck. He wanted to be certain, before he proceeded any further.

Nick opened his eyes and parted his lips, unsure of how to answer that question. He knew what he wanted, of course, but he didn’t know how to go about taking it with Valamir. He moaned as the lifebearer’s strokes increased in speed and friction on his hard shaft. If Valamir continued to fondle him like this, what he “wanted” would be irrelevant. He felt himself getting close to orgasm, and the delicious pressure was the strongest he had ever felt. Deciding that articulating his desires with words was useless in his aroused state, Nick pulled Valamir’s hand away from his erection and stood up.

For a second, Valamir feared that he had gone too far, and that Nicolas was leaving. The horrid sinking feeling in his belly was quickly replaced with exultation as Nick turned around to face him and gently pushed him down on the bed. His hard body lowered onto Valamir, and his mouth crushed against the lashran’s with a desperate hunger. Valamir parted his thighs, allowing the knight’s hips to settle between his legs. Nick’s exposed erection pressed against Valamir’s silk-concealed one, and the feeling of it came as a pleasant shock to the knight. He paused for a moment, rising up so that he was on his knees between Valamir’s legs.

Nicolas called upon the discipline training he had taken, determined not to lose control of himself and harm Valamir. “Is it safe, so soon after you’ve had your baby?” he said in a voice rough with desire.

Valamir stared up at him with luminous, deep violet eyes. His sensitive mouth smiled, and he replied, “Of course. So long as you are not rough with me. Are you ready for this, Nicolas?” His gaze was searching and patient, though his breathing rhythm was erratic with need.

Nicolas reached down to touch Valamir’s face, tracing the finely sculpted contours and admiring the Elder’s startling beauty. “I am ready for this, and I would never be rough with you,” he answered truthfully. Valamir’s crimson hair spread out around his head like a fiery halo, adding to his ethereal appearance. Nicolas couldn’t believe that he was about to claim this being as his own, in the most intimate act two people could share. “I…must admit that I’m not a very experienced lover,” the knight said, lowering his gaze, “I’ve only had intercourse once, with a woman. I’ve never even kissed a man until I met you.”

Valamir propped himself up on his elbows. “Does it frighten you?”

Nicolas chuckled. He was too aroused to be frightened! To Valamir, he said; “No, but I’m nervous, I must admit. What if I do something horribly wrong, out of ignorance? You’re very different from my last partner, you know.”

Valamir smiled and rose up, putting his arms around Nicolas’ neck, and wrapping his thighs around his waist. “Oh, gods,” the knight moaned as a burst of lust rocketed through his body. Valamir’s face was mere inches from his, and his deep eyes held him.

“Then allow me to be the one to risk a mistake, beautiful stallion,” Valamir whispered, kissing him softly on the lips. He wasn’t altogether certain that he would do everything right, as Human anatomy was just as alien to him as Lashran anatomy was to Nicolas. Valamir felt that he could be more forgiving of himself if he didn’t perform perfectly, though. Nicolas was a model specimen of masculinity, and if Valamir’s guess was right, he was probably as sensitive about his sexual performance as sires were. Virility was a mark of pride among the more aggressive sires, and it affected their self-esteem more than it effected lifebearers’.

Valamir pulled Nick’s shirt out of his breeches and opened it the rest of the way, sliding it off of his broad shoulders. Hard genitals pressing against each other, the pair kissed and caressed as Nick’s clothing was removed. When Nicolas was naked, Valamir again wrapped his legs around his waist and seated himself in the knight’s lap. “You’re so light,” Nicolas murmured huskily, cupping the other’s silk-covered bottom and pulling him tightly against his hardness.

Valamir hummed in his throat and rubbed his cheek against Nick’s. “May I take this off?” Nicolas said of the long nightshirt. It was riding up Valamir’s thighs, exposing most of his smooth-muscled legs and teasing the knight painfully. He wanted to feel Valamir’s naked flesh against his. Valamir gave his answer by taking Nicolas’ hands in his and guiding them to the hem of the shirt. His expressive eyes stared into Nick’s as the knight slowly lifted the garment up. Valamir raised his arms over his head so that Nicolas could pull the shirt the rest of the way up and off of him.

Nicolas went still when the Lashran’s nudity was fully revealed to him. He merely stared, resting his hands on Valamir’s waist. Valamir began to feel nervous and wondered if Nicolas found his body to be pleasing. Was the knight expecting a more delicate frame? Valamir had always been rather powerfully built for a lifebearer…could Nicolas be disappointed? The knight swallowed visibly and whispered, “I’m extremely lucky to have someone like you.” His dark eyes were disbelieving as they caressed the almost metallic bronze sheen of Valamir’s body.

Valamir had the grace to blush, certain that he didn’t deserve such compliments. Nicolas cupped his chin and kissed him, slowly and sensually. Valamir took one of the knight’s large, callused hands in his and guided it between his legs and behind his testicles. Nicolas pulled back slowly and gazed at the lashran with a question in his eyes as Valamir guided his fingers to move in a circular motion over the flesh behind his scrotum. “Trust me, Nicolas,” Valamir said, “apply pressure to the area, and my body will become prepared for you.”

Confused, yet curious as well, Nicolas obeyed. He pressed gingerly at first, having no idea how much pressure he should use without making it uncomfortable. When Valamir sighed and closed his eyes in enjoyment, the knight gained more confidence and rubbed more firmly. Nicolas groaned as Valamir again gripped his stiff manhood and stroked it tenderly.

Gathering his courage, the knight reached his other hand between Valamir’s legs and touched the Lashran’s pulsing shaft. Valamir kissed him, his breath quickening as Nicolas began to stroke the long organ with infinite care. “Your touch is so gentle,” the Elder sighed, brushing his mouth back and forth across Nick’s in a teasing half-kiss. It was surprising that this formidable, strong human could be so gentle. Valamir liked it very much.

Their stimulation of one another’s bodies became more heated with each moment, and their mouths sought each other’s out with painful need. “Nicolas,” gasped Valamir, “I must have you now…I cannot wait any longer.”

Nicolas’ deep voice was just as raw with passion as he replied, “Nor can I. Please, tell me what to do, Valamir.”

Valamir lifted himself up a bit and gripped the knight’s penis, guiding the tip to his moist, prepared entrance. “You needn’t do anything, save let your instincts take over,” he purred. And then he lowered his body slowly, taking Nicolas’ thick manhood into his body, inch by inch.

“Oh, Valamir,” Nicolas gasped, pushing his hips upwards to bury himself in the snug depths that gripped him. Valamir smiled down at him as he began to slowly move up and down upon his hardness. The lashran threaded his long fingers into Nick’s dark hair, massaging his scalp as he made love to him. It had been a couple of years since Nicolas’ one experience with intercourse, and he didn’t remember it feeling so wonderful. Certainly it had felt good, but this…oh, this was more than he had ever dreamed.

Valamir was so tight around him, and Nicolas wondered how that was possible, considering that he had recently passed a child through the warm canal. For a split second, he remembered that Valamir had gone into a healing sleep after giving birth-which would explain how his body had bounced back from the delivery so quickly. Then Valamir began to move in a steady rhythm, thrusting his hips down and forward onto Nick’s erection, firmly and deeply. Nicolas lost all coherent thought and hugged his lover to him, burying his face against Valamir’s smooth chest.

Valamir tossed his head back and parted his lips as Nicolas began to thrust in time with his movements. Gasping, clutching at Nick’s shoulders, he tried to hold back the moans and cries of pleasure that threatened to spill from his throat. He did not want to wake Gavin, or any of the other residents of the house, for that matter. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be silent. The hard strength of Nick’s manhood pushed hot throbs of sensation through Valamir’s body with each thrust. The feel of the knight’s muscles tensing beneath his fingers, and the sounds of husky delight emitting from his mouth increased Valamir’s excitement.

Lost in the rapture of their lovemaking, Valamir forgot to take things slowly. His movements quickened, and his thighs squeezed Nicolas’ waist tightly. Nicolas stroked Valamir’s soft, thick hair and pressed his lips against the silken skin of his chest. It seemed to both of them that there was not enough air to breath, and Valamir finally cried out and bowed his head, the shiny veil of his hair falling forward as he came. Nicolas held tightly to the Elder as Valamir panted in release and shook from head to toe. The lifebearer slowed his pace to a gentle undulation as he recovered from his release, and he caressed Nicolas’ face and murmured to him in the Lashran tongue.

Seeing the beautiful, fulfilled expression on Valamir’s features sent Nicolas over the edge. He gasped his name and thrust hard into him, pulling Valamir’s head down so that he could kiss him deeply. Valamir groaned softly against the knight’s lips as Nick’s seed spurted into him. Nicolas panted and kissed Valamir slowly, feeling his muscles turn to water from the relief. Staying upright was difficult. He squeezed his partner around the waist and hugged him tightly, rubbing his face against the smoothness of the Elder’s chest. “Marry me,” he mumbled.

Valamir’s brows furrowed and he pulled away slightly to give Nicolas a puzzled frown. “Marry you? I do not…oh!” his eyes widened with startlement as what the Human was asking dawned on him. “You wish to be bonded with me? Truly?” He hadn’t expected such an offer, though he and Nicolas had made plans to live together and raise Gavin as partners.

“Truly. It feels right, Valamir. I know that you may need some time, given what you’ve been through. I also know that by Lashran law, you and Bakarus are still bonded. I only wish for you to think on it.”

Valamir caressed Nick’s features with his fingertips and murmured, “I have chosen exile from my people to be with you. By Lashran law, I am no longer part of their society, and the Vashekna was broken when I became an exile. If it is truly what you want, then I would be honored to bond with you, Nicolas.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

“Second Chances”

Part 8

_Copyright © C.R. Bostic, 2004, 2015_

* * *

 

Nicolas and Valamir announced their plans the next day, during dinner. Nobody was truly surprised by the news, and heartfelt congratulations were given. “I should probably go to Mother’s house tomorrow and tell her,” Nicolas said thoughtfully, “I also need to retrieve some paperwork and begin looking at some property further inland. I would like to at least have our home built by the end of the year.”

Tsabrak nodded and swallowed the mouthful of steak he was eating before replying, “That’s good thinking, Nick. You do know of course, that you are all welcome to live with us for as long as you like.”

Lythas smiled in agreement. “Yes. This house has plenty of room for everyone. You can choose another bedroom to stay in, if you aren’t happy with the one that you are in now.”

Valamir flushed in pleasure at their generous offer. “Oh no…we are quite happy with the accommodations you have set up for us. I only wish that there was something I could do to repay you. I do not suppose there is a demand for exotic jewelry in any of the places you deliver to? I would be happy to craft some for you, if I am provided with the necessary tools.”

Tsabrak and Lythas looked at one another thoughtfully. Yes, they could probably sell jewelry to some of their clients. Rich men liked to give expensive gifts to their wives. Tsabrak smiled and stroked his chin. “Aye, that does sound appealing, Elder. If you’ll write me a list of everything that you need, I shall collect it for you. Ten percent of the profit would be fine, for me.”

Valamir shook his head. “Oh, you may have all of the profit, Tsabrak. I am offering to do this so that I might give you and Lythallendar something in return for allowing us to stay with you. I would not feel right about it, otherwise.”

Lythallendar reached across the table and lay his hand over Valamir’s. His green eyes were kind and patient as he said; “We truly appreciate it, Elder, but Tsabrak and I would not feel right about taking all of the money for your hard work. You will need new clothes for yourself and the baby, and even if you do not need to add to Nicolas’ finances for the ranch, saving up for your son’s future is never a bad idea.”

Valamir chewed his lip, seeing Lythallendar’s logic and finding himself agreeing with it. “I must agree with you on that point, Lythallendar. Shall we split the profit from the jewelry equally, then? You must at least take half of it, I beg.”

Tsabrak shrugged helplessly. “If you insist, then far be it from us to argue. We didn’t take you in to gain a profit, however.”

Valamir smiled and squeezed Nick’s hand beneath the table. “Of course. It does not hurt for me to give something in return, however.”

* * *

 

Aurora was moody and withdrawn as time went by. She didn’t go on any delivery voyages for a while, because she didn’t want to miss Valamir and Nicolas’ bonding ceremony. Vurkanan admired her courage in choosing to do so, for he could feel the pent-up emotions in the young woman, and he knew how difficult the Vashekna was going to be on her. Morgan would be there to see his brother bonded. That could not be avoided. Vurkanan began to take life more seriously, though his sense of humor didn’t fade in the least. When he told Tsabrak the news that their parents were dead for certain, Vurkanan was surprised by the reaction. He was wrong about Tsabrak having accepted their deaths. The sire stood there with a stunned expression on his face and whispered, “You are certain?”

When Vurkanan sadly nodded, Tsabrak closed his eyes and bowed his head. His strong shoulders trembled as he began to weep, and Vurkanan’s eyes filled with tears of answering sorrow. Lythas had come into the study to find the brothers hugging one another tightly, and Vurkanan was murmuring softly to Tsabrak, in an effort to calm him. The pirate was growling in pain and shaking all over. “What is it?” Lythallendar had asked, his emerald gaze wide and worried. When Vurkanan explained the news to him, Lythas immediately brewed up a sedative tea for Tsabrak and coaxed him to drink it.

It took a few weeks for Tsabrak to come to terms with the news of his parents’ deaths, but at least he was grieving. Vurkanan had worried inwardly that the pirate might hold everything in. Sires were like that, sometimes. He eventually got back to being his old self, for the excitement of being a parent for the first time helped to combat his depression. Tsabrak practically glowed with pride as Lythallendar’s belly began to swell with the pregnancy.

Nicolas and Valamir often spent the weekends at Charlotte’s house, so that she could visit her “grandson”, and so that Morgan knew that they were both there for him, as well. The Bargel avoided visiting the Darshaw manor, as he knew that Aurora was staying home for the time being. He did bump into Tsabrak and Lythas in the market now and then, and they always chatted companionably and avoided the subject of his and Aurora’s falling out. It was in the last month of Lythallendar’s pregnancy that he found out that Morgan was engaged.

Lythas was looking through a peddler’s collection of silks, trying to decide which colors he should purchase to decorate for Nick and Valamir’s bonding ceremony. They planned to have it in the manor, with only immediate family and friends in attendance, and Lythas was high strung over it. He had a few months to plan for it, but he wanted everything to be as elegant as possible. Morgan called out to him from across the canal, and Lythas turned and smiled, waving to the young man. Morgan ran across the small bridge spanning the canal and came up to stand before Lythallendar. “It’s been a while,” the Bargel said with a grin, his eyes going immediately to Lythas’ rounded belly, “and you look as though you’re ready to have that baby at any moment!”

Lythas chuckled and rubbed the mound in gentle circles. “Yes. Tsabrak expects I should go into labor by next week. The little one has dropped lower, which is a good sign. How are you?” His green eyes were searching as he examined the young man. He hadn’t seen Morgan in such fine spirits since the evening before Aurora called things off, and he examined the young man’s pupils furtively to see if they were dilated. He checked a sigh of relief to find that Morgan was not under the influence of some “bliss drug”.

“Well, I have some news that might come as a shock, sir. I’ve met another woman. Her name is Brittany, and she transferred here from another guild, a couple of months ago. She’s my age, and we’ve got a lot in common besides sorcery. We’ve decided to get married.”

Lythallendar’s eyebrows rose. “Oh! That is a surprise!” After recovering from the initial shock at the news, he smiled gently at Morgan and patted him on the arm. “Well done, Morgan. I must say, I am relieved to see that you have found happiness and have carried on with your life. I should very much like to meet this young woman. I shall have to scold Nicolas and Valamir for not telling me this news!”

Morgan chuckled. “Well, we’ve only decided this today, so don’t be too hard on them. They knew I was involved, but they didn’t feel comfortable about telling you, given that you’re Aurora’s Father and all.” The young man frowned and added, “I wasn’t sure I should tell you either. I don’t want you to think badly of me, Lythas.”

“Dear Morgan, that would never happen. I look on you as a member of my family, and I would never begrudge you the chance to build a happy future for yourself.” Lythas said firmly, squeezing the Bargel’s shoulder in a fatherly gesture, “I only wish that Aurora could do the same. Both of you deserve to have a fulfilled life, even if it is not with each other.”

Morgan frowned. “How is she? We didn’t part on good terms, but I don’t want her to be miserable, despite how she hurt me.”

Lythas sighed and turned his bright eyes to the bolt of silk he was holding. “Oh, she has been better. She is getting along fairly, I suppose, but she rarely laughs, anymore. I think that once she is out at sea, she will heal more efficiently. It was not easy on her, to choose the road she has taken.”

Morgan nodded and lowered his eyes. He would always love Aurora. There was just no help for it. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation had wandered. “You’ve cut your hair,” he commented, fingering a dark, wayward curl on Lythallendar’s head. When he had last seen the lifebearer, the black tresses were down to his waist in length. Now they fell to his shoulders, as they did back when Morgan was only a child.

Lythas smiled. “Yes, I grew weary of the length. I prefer my hair to be long, but not so long that it catches on doorknobs everytime I walk passed a threshold. It was also quite uncomfortable in the summer.”

“Aye, I can understand that. Such dark hair would catch the heat nicely. I imagine it was like having a cape constantly around your shoulders.” Feeling better now that the conversation had taken a turn, he questioned, “so, Valamir and my brother are going to be husband and…er…husband, soon. What of Lyre and Vurk? I haven’t seen them around to ask them myself. Are there any bonding plans for those two, yet?”

Lythallendar shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. They have discussed it, but they seem to be taking their time. I think that they are both a bit insecure about whether the other is ready for such a big step, and they might feel that they are pushing the other too hard by delving too deeply into the subject.”

Morgan laughed. “Walking on eggshells, eh? I expect that from Lyre, but I expected Vurkanan to be the last person to be shy over expressing his wants.”

Lythas smiled and ran his hand down the smooth silk he held. “I agree. However, I have the feeling that Vurkanan has never felt this strongly for another person, and hence he is afraid of ruining things by getting his hopes up. I wish that I could tell him that my son would be overjoyed at the chance to be his bondmate. I cannot interfere further than I already have, however. They are both adults, and can make their own decisions.”

“I understand that Vurkanan has been working with the underground guild in Valkyrie Falls to change the laws against Magic,” Morgan said with a grin, “how’s that been going?”

Lythas shook his head and sighed. “I never thought I would see the day, but their efforts seem to be doing some good. The laws have changed a bit. Before, magic was completely banned, and those caught practicing it were jailed or worse. The church has slowly begun to lose its hold on the citizens, and now it’s merely forbidden for magic users to set up residency in Valkyrie Falls. Sorcerers can now pass through the city, so long as they hand over their tools while they are there and sign a contract saying that they will not cast spells or influence people in any way. Would you believe that Vurkanan hopes to build an academy there, someday?”

Morgan’s eyes went round. “You’re shitting me,” he said without thinking, and then he clamped a hand over his mouth and blushed, ashamed of using such language in front of the gentle lifebearer.

Lythas smiled, quite used to swearing by now. “It is true! And what is even more insane is that I believe he could very well accomplish this. Vurkanan rarely lets a thing go, when he sets his sights on it.”

Morgan nodded in agreement. “That’s true enough. If anyone could set up an arcane university in a city that hates magic, it’s Vurkanan.”

They chatted about other things, and Lythas was dismayed to learn that Jahlad’s health was getting poorer as time went by, as was the sharpness of his mind. The old Bargel was in good spirits, however, and his pain was minimal. For that, they could all be thankful.

Tsabrak finally found them, and Lythas was quite remorseful when he realized that he was an hour late in meeting his bondmate at the bookstore. “You’ve given me quite a fright, little one,” Tsabrak said tightly. The relief at finding Lythas talking to Morgan and quite well was apparent in his golden eyes.

“It’s my fault, sir,” Morgan said to the sire, “I’ve kept Lythas without realizing the time.”

Tsabrak put his arm around Lythas and nuzzled his dark curls. “There’s no harm done. I’m just being overprotective, with him this close to his time. I shall have to keep a closer eye on my easily distracted mate, until the babe is born.”

Lythas smirked up at Tsabrak in amusement. He did try not to be overly possessive, but it really didn’t bother Lythallendar as much as Tsabrak thought. Lythas had always been a submissive person in relationships, whether it was from being a slave or because he was naturally timid. He rather liked it when Tsabrak got strict with him. The only thing he disliked was being lied to or patronized as if he could not handle the truth.

Lythallendar blushed as an unexpected image of being tied to the bed by his mate and having Tsabrak ravish his subdued body popped into his head. He had no idea where the thought came from, except that he had been reflecting on Tsabrak’s struggle to control his dominating urges. Perhaps a little game of “captive and conqueror” would give the sire some relief from that struggle.

“What are you grinning about?” Tsabrak whispered in his ear, kissing the curve of it when he finished speaking.

Lythas shivered and replied, “I shall tell you after our little one is born.” He couldn’t stop his grin from widening at the intrigued lift of his mate’s silver eyebrows.

* * *

“He’s what?!” Aurora stared at her Father as if he had just told her that he had proof that the moon was made of green cheese.

“Morgan is engaged,” Lythas repeated gently, his eyes rimmed with sympathy, “I know that it is difficult news for you to hear, but I wanted you to know, rather than meeting him on the street with his fiancée, or finding out at Valamir and Nicolas’ Vashekna. I am sorry, Aurora. I wish that I could spare you this pain.”

Aurora closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So, who is this bitch he’s going to be marrying?” she said shakenly.

Lythallendar sighed. “She is not a ‘bitch’, darling. She is just a young woman whom he met through his guild. I had hoped that you would be mature about this, and be pleased that he has moved on. You needn’t hurt yourself with guilt, anymore!”

“Well, I’m not ‘pleased’! I know I should be a bigger person about this, but I need to vent, dammit!” With that said, she screamed in fury and threw the glass of brandy she had been nursing at the wall. Lythas flinched and stared at his daughter as if she was a stranger.

“Aurora, please calm down,” he said, torn between wanting to take her into his arms and the fear that in her irrational state, she might get violent with him.

“Fuck that! Here I’ve been wallowing in guilt, hating myself and believing his accusations of me being a selfish ice-queen, and he’s been living it up with some wench! He didn’t even have the courage to tell me himself!” She tromped over to the wall where the liquor and glasses were shelved, and she began to take bottles and glasses off of the shelves and throw hurl them to join the broken snifter at the west wall. She laughed and sobbed simultaneously as she took her wrath out on the innocent crystal ware.

While Lythas could certainly see her side of things, he was becoming frightened of his daughter. She had the look of a madwoman. Her stormy eyes glowed like lightning as she methodically destroyed the drinking glasses, and her lips were pulled back in a feral snarl. “Oh, Aurora,” the Lifebearer murmured helplessly. He could not try to subdue her in his pregnant state, and no amount of pleading with her seemed to reach her.

* * *

 

Tsabrak was upstairs with Vurkanan, and they were debating over the finishing touches of the nursery. “I don’t want the colors to clash overmuch,” the sire was saying of the choices of wall paint, “studies have shown that little ones tend to sleep better when surrounded by somber colors. If we make it too loud, he may have broken sleeping patterns.”

“Why don’t we paint the entire room pale blue, and then paint clouds?” Suggested Vurkanan, “You know…like the sky? Or we could paint it indigo and make little star constellations. That should keep the lad entertained, without disturbing his sleep.”

Tsabrak smiled hugely at his sibling. “Ah, Vurk…you’re a genius! I do like that idea. We could make the ceiling resemble a night sky, and paint trees and grass on the walls.”

Vurkanan laughed. “Sounds like a challenge. I’m up for it. I’m sure that Lyre will be interested in helping, once he returns home with Valamir and Nicolas.”

The sound of a yell and glass shattering downstairs gave them both pause. After a moment, Vurkanan shrugged and said; “It sounds as though Aurora had a bit of an accident.”

Tsabrak’s answering smile was short-lived, for soon after the first crash came several more. He heard Aurora screaming and swearing, and Lythallendar’s raised voice. Tsabrak’s alarmed gaze met Vurkanan’s, and they both vaulted out the door and down the stairs. The first thing that crossed Tsabrak’s mind was that someone had broken into the house and attacked Aurora and Lythas. Then he reached the bottom of the stairs and heard Aurora scream that Morgan was a cowardly eunuch. Lythas was standing well out of harms way, pleading softly with his daughter to cease her violence.

“I’m guessing he told her about Morgan’s engagement,” Vurkanan said with a frown. He blamed himself. If he had kept his senses sharp, he might have sensed Aurora’s rising anxiety and been able to cast a sleep spell on her before it could reach the explosion point.

“Aurora, calm down,” Tsabrak said firmly as he stepped into the room. Her steel blue eyes snapped to him, and she tossed a mug straight at him. Vurkanan hastily leaped aside, and Tsabrak ducked. The mug whistled over his head and smashed against the wall. “Very well,” the pirate muttered with a glint in his golden eyes, “if violence is all that you understand, so be it.” He muttered a quick incantation, and his form blurred for a split second, then shifted back to normal. “Come on, you selfish bitch,” he taunted Aurora.

“Tsabrak, no!” Lythas said as his mate’s words reached his ears. Surely Tsabrak wouldn’t hit his daughter!

Tsabrak paid him no heed. Instead, the sire crouched into a fighting stance and eyed Aurora grimly. “Come on!” she roared at Tsabrak, flashing a rude gesture at him and crouching herself.

“Oh, shit,” Vurkanan blurted, his silver eyes as round as platters. This, he hadn’t expected. His shocked gaze met Lythallendar’s, and both lifebearers stood frozen as Aurora and Tsabrak faced off against one another.

* * *

 

“Vurkanan will be pleasantly surprised when you show him these, I think,” Valamir said to Lyre with a smile as they stepped off of the ferry. The Elder held two carved boxes. One held his and Nicolas’ Vashekna bracelets, and the other held the pair that Lyre had asked him to craft for he and Vurkanan.

“I certainly hope so,” the young sire said nervously, “I’m still not sure that I should present them to him, just yet. It’s a big step to take, and I don’t want to frighten him away.”

Nicolas patted his friend on the back and replied, “I doubt that will happen, Lyre. Vurkanan is in love with you…I can see that now. Even if he’s not ready to bond with you, I’m sure he won’t simply run away.”

“Aye, but I don’t think I could take the rejection, no matter how kindly he puts it.”

Valamir smiled at Lyre and soothed, “Then wait longer, if you must. It is always best to test the temperature of the water, before diving in.”

Lyre thought on this as they walked up the path leading to his house. “You’re right. I’ll hint at the suggestion for a bit, before proposing to him. This is too important to me to risk doing the wrong thing.”

As they reached the door, a sharp yell and a curse gave them pause. The three of them looked at one another with puzzled expressions as Tsabrak’s low growl reached their ears. Nicolas wordlessly drew his longsword and motioned for the other two to step aside and allow him to go in first…just in case there was a break in and they needed to fight.

When he stepped guardedly through the threshold, Nicolas was stunned speechless. He nearly dropped his sword with surprise at the sight that greeted him. Aurora and Tsabrak were in the middle of a brawl, with Lythas looking on with clasped hands and frightened, huge eyes. Vurkanan was at the base of the stairwell on the other side of the room, looking just as helpless as Lythallendar.

“What in the hells-“ gasped Nicolas. He hissed in a sharp breath as Aurora leaped into the air and whirled around, her foot connecting with Tsabrak’s head. That had to hurt. Tsabrak reeled as the kick sent him stumbling.

“What is going on?” questioned Lyre with wide eyes as he came up behind his friend.

Tsabrak growled low in his throat and dove aside as Aurora tried to kick him again. The sire punched out, striking the young woman in the jaw and making her cry out. Nicolas immediately started forward with rage, unable to stand aside and watch a woman get hit for any reason. He was surprised when Valamir restrained him with unexpected strength and murmured, “Leave them. There is a method to Tsabrak’s apparent madness.”

“Tsabrak, what the hell are you doing to my sister?!” hollered Lyre, and Valamir swore as the young sire ran past him. He couldn’t restrain both Nicolas and Lyre!

He didn’t have to. Aurora turned to her brother and held her hand up. “Stay out of this, Lyre! This is between us!”

Lyre turned betrayed, hurt green eyes to the sire whom he thought of as a parent. Tsabrak winked at him, confusing him even further. Shaking his head and staying clear of the two, for they had again begun to attack one another, Lyre approached his Father and put his arm around his shoulders. “Father, please tell me what’s going on,” he said.

Lythas shook his head in helpless confusion. “I do not know! I just do not know!”

Vurkanan quickly slipped past the embattled woman and Tsabrak to stand beside his lover. He was the only one besides Aurora who could see the illusion that Tsabrak had worked over himself, apparently. “He’s helping her, believe it or not. She didn’t take the news that Morgan is engaged very well, and when Tsab came downstairs to calm her down, she threw a mug at him. After that, he worked a simple spell over himself that made him look like Morgan, to her. I suppose she just needs to beat the shit out of the object of her frustrations.”

Lythas relaxed slightly, as did Lyre and Nicolas. Though none of them were certain that getting into a fistfight was the answer, they were relieved to see that Tsabrak hadn’t lost his mind, and was indeed trying to help Aurora. “She’s not exactly in her right mind,” whispered Lyre in worry, wincing as his sister head-butted Tsabrak, and the sire retaliated by slamming her into the wall. “I’m afraid she could kill him, if he pushes her too far.” He knew Tsabrak could restrain himself from doing too much damage to Aurora, but the young woman was rabid with fury.

Lythas began to breathe heavily, and he was going pale. “Here…let us leave the room,” Valamir said quickly, reaching out to the younger lifebearer. He flashed a disapproving glare at Tsabrak and Aurora. He admired the clever ploy that the pirate had used, but he was angry that he had chosen to do it in front of Lythallendar.  Neither Aurora nor Tsabrak paid any attention to anyone else except each other.

“No…I cannot leave. What if one of them becomes seriously hurt?” Lythas said in agony, leaning against Lyre as he became dizzy.

Vurkanan was too caught up in the chaos to bother speaking Avran. In the Lashran tongue, he said, “I will not allow that to happen, Lythallendar. If it looks to be getting too dangerous, I can subdue them both with my magic. Go on…you do not need to see this.”

Valamir took Lythas gently but firmly by the arm and guided him out of the parlor and to the study. He gave Nicolas a nod when the knight looked after him questioningly, indicating that he should remain to help Lyre and Vurkanan if things got out of hand.

“Easy, youngling,” he murmured softly to Lythallendar as the pregnant lifebearer hyperventilated. When the reached the study, he helped Lythas to sit down and then closed the door. Valamir was quite thankful that little Gavin was staying the night at Charlotte’s house. “Calm your breathing, Lythallendar. It is not good for the baby, for you to become so upset.”

Lythas’ tortured green eyes flicked to the door as his daughter’s scream of pain reached his ears, and he started to stand up to go to her. Valamir firmly held the younger lashran down. “No, Lythallendar. Trust your mate and your family, I beg. Aurora’s fury must have an outlet, and I must say, it was clever of Tsabrak to do this. Nobody will allow either of them to become seriously injured, and their bruises will mend with a healing trance.”

Lythallendar closed his eyes and covered his face in his hands, trying to calm his shaking and breathing. “He might have warned me,” he protested breathlessly.

Valamir nodded and frowned grimly. “Indeed. He should have at least told you that all would be well. I intend to have a talk with Tsabrak for frightening you like this.” He pulled Lythallendar into his arms and rocked him gently, as he would his own son. The younger lashran trembled and returned the embrace, quite thankful for Valamir’s reassuring presence. If the Elder said that all would be well, Lythas had to believe him.

* * *

Aurora panted heavily as she circled her opponent. He seemed to be as bad off as she was. Blood was dripping into his right eye from a cut on his forehead, and his lip was split open. The young woman ignored the pain of her throbbing ribs and jaw, and she lurched forward. He dodged to the side, and she smiled grimly at the success of her feint and followed. She brought her hand out in a violent chop, catching him in the throat.

Vurkanan tensed up as his brother grasped his neck and wheezed. This was going too far. He stared at Tsabrak with wide eyes, fearful that Aurora had crushed his windpipe. Tsabrak caught his sibling’s gaze and raised his hand to stall his casting, giving him a reassuring nod. Then the pirate launched himself at Aurora, who seemed to realize that she might have taken her anger too far, and had paused to stare at him. His sudden move took her off guard, and the pair tumbled to the floor, grappling with each other. Tsabrak grabbed her dark hair by the roots and slammed her head into the wooden floor, stunning her.

Nicolas winced. “Easy, Tsabrak,” he murmured, thinking that the Sire had applied more force than was necessary. His concern for Aurora quickly became concern for Tsabrak, for Aurora recovered from the stun and drove her knee into his groin.

Tsabrak groaned and fell to the side. “Alright…I think that’s enough,” he grunted painfully, and he dropped the illusion.

Aurora was just about to launch another attack on him while he was subdued, but she skipped to a stop and all of her anger dissolved into bafflement. Morgan’s image blurred, and instead of a bloody, bruised sorcerer, Tsabrak lay curled up on the floor. The red haze of fury lifted from her completely as the sire looked up at her and smiled painfully. “Feel better, lass?”

“I…I…h-how,” Aurora stammered, trying to remember the events between her father telling her about Morgan’s engagement and the sorcerer becoming Tsabrak. Her pain and fury had been so great that she hadn’t even thought it odd for Morgan to suddenly appear in her house and taunt her.

Tsabrak slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, his hands still cupping his aching genitals. He hoped Aurora hadn’t rendered him sterile with that kick! “It’s quite simple, actually. You were completely irrational with anger, and it was clear that you needed to let it out. I used an illusion and gave you the opportunity to take out your aggression.”

Aurora fell to her knees, grimacing in pain at the movement. She reached out and touched Tsabrak’s bloodied face gingerly, feeling unaccustomed fondness for the pirate. “You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered remorsefully.

Tsabrak shrugged. “You needed it. The question is, do you feel better now?”

She nodded, then moaned and clutched her head. “Ah, I should have known you weren’t really Morgan. He hits like a girl. Do you have knuckles made of steel?” She could tell that he had cracked one of her ribs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t intend to be so rough with you, but you were truly beating the hell out of me. I had to retaliate.”

They both grinned at that, and Aurora hesitantly and rather shyly scooted close to him and hugged him. “I don’t know what to say. There aren’t many people who would set themselves up to be hit like that, even if it was therapeutic for me.”

Tsabrak started to laugh, but his raw, aching throat had other ideas, and he coughed instead. When he caught his breath, he rasped, “I’m glad that I did, lass. If you did this much damage to me, I fear what you might have done to the real Morgan. Promise me that you will try to let this go…for all our sakes.” He stroked her matted hair in a fatherly gesture as he spoke.

She sighed. “I’ll try. I think I’ll do better with all this once I’m out at sea.”

Deeming it safe to approach the two of them now, Vurkanan crossed the room, sidestepping broken glass and the overturned coffee table. He knelt before his brother and friend and shook his head. “You two…you took years off my life with that idiocy,” he scolded with a grin, “I think we should check you both for broken bones. If you have any, they’ll need to be set before you sleep. I shall brew a sedative painkiller for you.”

Aurora grinned up at her friend as he rose and turned to leave. She caught Lyre’s eye and noticed the frown on her younger sibling’s face. “What’s the matter with you?”

He pursed his lips. “You’ve frightened poor Father half to death with your violence, that’s what is wrong with me! While the two of you were fist fighting, he started to hyperventilate, and Valamir had to practically drag him to the study to try and calm him down. I just hope that he doesn’t go into labor because of this!”

Tsabrak unceremoniously pushed Aurora away from him and struggled to his feet. “Oh gods…. Lythallendar,” he gasped, lurching towards the hallway that led to the study. Forgetting the pain of his injuries and everyone else, he rushed to the study as quickly as he could. He opened the door to find his mate sitting on the couch with Valamir, who was holding him and stroking his hair. “Lythas,” Tsabrak murmured, kneeling down before the lifebearer.

Lythallendar turned to look at him with wide, bright eyes. “Your face! Oh, Tsabrak, please tell me that my daughter is not in the same condition as you are!”

Tsabrak lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, dear heart. We both gave some rather hard hits to one another. I should have given you some clue about what I was going to do, but it wasn’t planned. The idea came to me at the spur of the moment, otherwise I would have shared with you, I swear.” He took one of Lythas’ cold hands in his and rubbed it briskly, kissing the palm. He avoided Valamir’s eyes, feeling like a particularly naughty child in the face of the Elder’s disapproval.

“Helping the young woman was certainly a noble idea, but frightening your mate witless was incredibly stupid of you, Tsabrak,” Valamir said evenly.

“I know, I know. Forgive me, little one,” Tsabrak murmured.

Lythas pulled gently out of Valamir’s arms and hugged Tsabrak. “You were only trying to help. I do understand that, now. How is she?”

“I’m fine, Daddy,” Aurora said from the doorway, drawing their eyes to her.

Lythas pulled out of his mate’s embrace and hurried to his daughter. His hands gently cupped her face, and he shook his head and sighed. “I certainly hope that all of the bruises and cuts are worth it,” he said with a frown. He hugged her tightly, then gasped as she cried out in pain.

“It’s my rib,” she explained in a strained voice, “I think it’s fractured. It’ll be all right, though. Just don’t squeeze me so hard.”

Tsabrak bit his lip as Lythallendar slowly turned and glared at him. “You cracked my daughter’s rib?” he said slowly, advancing a step on his mate.

“Father, don’t blame Tsabrak,” Aurora said quickly, grabbing Lythas by the arm to halt him, “I think I did it when I knocked him to the floor. He didn’t do it on purpose, and he couldn’t just stand there and let me beat him half to death, could he?”

Lythas paused, and he looked from his daughter to his mate with an expression of frustrated confusion. “Why do you people think that violence solves everything?” he finally hollered, raising his hands in exasperation. Before either of them could answer, he angrily stomped out of the study. He paused and ran a hand over his face tiredly when he emerged from the hallway and saw the mess they had made of the loungeroom. Nicolas was holding a dustpan for Lyre, who was sweeping the smaller shards of broken into it. Lyre stopped when he saw his father standing there, and Nicolas took the broom from him and continued so that he could approach Lythas.

“Are you okay?” Lyre questioned, his green eyes roaming Lythallendar’s form anxiously.

“Yes, Lyre. Do not worry…I shan’t go into labor until it is time. I merely panicked a bit.” Lythas hugged his son tightly and closed his eyes. “I am glad that you take after me,” he murmured against Lyre’s shoulder.

The young sire returned the embrace lovingly and nodded in agreement. “At least she’s no longer rabid,” he said softly, trying to see the bright side of the entire affair. Vurkanan had described how out of control the young woman was when he and Tsabrak had come down the stairs. He couldn’t argue with the effectiveness of Tsabrak’s actions, but he couldn’t quite understand them, either. Like Lythallendar, he believed that there were other, better ways to solve problems than hitting things or people.

“Vurkanan is making up a drink for them that should help them sleep,” he said as he pulled back and gazed into his father’s eyes, “would you like for me to tell him to brew one for you as well?”

Lythas forced a tired smile and shook his head. “Thanks, no. The anxiety I have been through witnessing my mate and daughter try to kill one another is enough to have exhausted me on it’s own. I shall retire to bed. You can tell Tsabrak that he can take one of the guest rooms tonight.”

Lyre winced in sympathy for Tsabrak as Lythallendar went up the stairs. The pirate emerged from the hallway after Lythas was gone, and Lyre looked at him and shook his head. “You’ve really gotten yourself into trouble this time, sir.”

* * *

 

“Ye gods, what a mess,” Vurkanan sighed as he began to remove his clothing. Lyre was already undressed and waiting for him in the bed. “I hope Lythallendar forgives my brother.”

Lyre smiled as his lover pulled his tight, long-sleeved black shirt off and slung it over the back of a chair. “He will. Father isn’t one to hold grudges for long. He was just very frightened by the whole thing, and he cannot understand Aurora’s way of thinking.”

Vurkanan wriggled out of his breeches and flashed a grin at Lyre. “Well, I can to a certain point. Morgan should have at least written her and explained things. Perhaps he merely felt that she was not hurting enough as it was. I think it may have been his petty way of getting revenge, for her breaking things off with him.”

Lyre shook his head. “Morgan isn’t like that, though. He’s not a spiteful, mean person. Father said that he had only proposed to the girl that morning, so naturally, Aurora wouldn’t be the first person on his list to tell the news to, so soon after the engagement.”

Vurkanan paused with his hands at the strings of his skimpy codpiece. “That is true. I still think he should have sent some word to her that he was involved with someone. He was asking for trouble by avoiding it.”

Lyre had lost track of his thoughts while watching Vurkanan undress, and he shook himself out of his lustful daze and nodded. “You’re right about that. This might have been avoided if he had told her from the start that he was courting another woman. It was quite a harsh blow to her, I suppose.”

Vurkanan frowned. “Very harsh. Put yourself in her place, for a moment…or imagine that you and I had a falling out and you found out a few months later that I was bonding with someone. She wasn’t even given a chance to get used to the idea of him with another person.”

“Aye. When you put it that way, I do see a hidden agenda. She ended things with Morgan without warning, so perhaps he felt that having the news of his engagement sprung upon her so unexpectedly was justice.” His emerald gaze remained fixated on the strings of the thong that Vurkanan was toying with. He was surprised that he was able to say the last part coherently, for all that he could think of was getting his hands on Vurkanan’s body.

The sorcerer noticed the intense, eager look in Lyre’s eye, and he smiled and ran the strings through his fingers teasingly, turning his body slightly away from his lover.

Lyre sighed. “Come to bed, Angel.”

“I take it the conversation has lost its appeal to you,” Vurkanan purred as he climbed onto the bed and slid his hand beneath the blanket covering Lyre to the waist. The sire groaned softly as Vurkanan’s hand found his erection and began to stroke it. Vurkanan kissed Lyre slowly and sensually as he fondled him, and he pressed his graceful form against his lover’s and undulated his hips slowly and suggestively.

Lyre caught his breath and pushed his tongue past the lifebearer’s lips to explore the inside of his mouth. His hands cupped Vurkanan’s smooth buttocks, and his thumbs hooked the string of the scant codpiece and pulled at it. “I want you,” he murmured unnecessarily. Vurkanan shifted so that Lyre could remove his codpiece. He sucked gently on his lover’s tongue, and when he Lyre tossed the stringy bit of cloth away that had concealed his privates, the sorcerer rubbed his naked erection against the Sire’s arm. Lyre eagerly gripped the hard organ and rubbed it, while at the same time moving his hips in time with Vurkanan’s strokes.

“Lyre,” Vurkanan sighed softly. He loved the way Lyre’s strong hand always gripped him so firmly.

Lyre pulled his mouth away from Vurkanan’s so that he could trail kisses down his neck and chest. He kicked the covers off of his body and rolled his lover onto his back. Fingers combing into Vurkanan’s moon-pale hair, Lyre coaxed him to arch his neck, and when he did, the sire sucked at the sensitive skin. His hand slid lower and stimulated Vurkanan so that he would be prepared for him. When his entrance was damp enough, Lyre slipped two fingers in and began to gently thrust. Vurkanan moaned and moved his body encouragingly, no less eager to couple than he was. Some nights it was like this…they both became so randy so suddenly that it was all they could do to take the time to prepare for intercourse. Other nights, they spent long hours touching and kissing, and they would give one another pleasure with hands and mouths many times before coupling.

Lyre settled his hips between Vurkanan’s spread thighs and kissed him deeply, then slowly pushed his hardness into the waiting heat. The sorcerer tossed his head and gasped his lover’s name, locking his legs around Lyre’s waist. “So perfect,” Vurkanan breathed as he stared up at Lyre’s face.

Lyre smiled tenderly at him and lowered his head for another kiss, and then he began to move gently within him. Vurkanan closed his eyes in pleasure and parted his lips, allowing his lover’s tongue to slide into his mouth. Lyre’s thrusts deepened and hardened with his excitement, and Vurkanan gasped sharply against the sire’s lips and answered his urgent movements just as eagerly.

Lyre pulled back and gazed down at Vurkanan, pushing his manhood even harder into the lifebearer’s sheath. “Oh, Lyre,” panted Vurkanan. It wasn’t often that Lyre was this demanding. While he knew that if his companion’s lovemaking was always so vigorous, he would likely have trouble walking, Vurkanan couldn’t deny that he enjoyed feeling of Lyre’s cock hitting his pleasure spot so forcefully. He groaned and clung to his lover as Lyre murmured incoherently and quickened the pace. Soon, Vurkanan was crying out uncontrollably and clutching Lyre’s back desperately, and he shuddered and climaxed.

Lyre slowed his thrusts when his lover peaked, though he kept his movements deeply penetrating. He kissed Vurkanan’s delicate lips, which were smiling in pleasure. The sire buried his face in Vurkanan’s thick hair as his own orgasm came, and he kissed his neck feverishly when he spilled himself. “Did you like that?” he questioned breathlessly, still gently thrusting.

Vurkanan’s silver eyes twinkled as he winked up at Lyre. “I should think that the mess coating your belly should have told you that I did indeed like it,” the sorcerer whispered with a laugh.

* * *

Lythas tossed and turned and tried to block out the sounds of his son and Vurkanan’s lovemaking with the pillows. He blushed furiously at the bumps and groans of pleasure coming from the room across the hallway, and he considered asking Lyre to move his things into one of the rooms at the other end of the house. While Lythas didn’t begrudge his son and lover the right to be intimate, he certainly wasn’t comfortable hearing the details when he was trying to sleep. Hearing their soft cries of pleasure made him think of Tsabrak, and Lythas bit his lip and felt guilty for sending his mate to another room for the night.

After another half-hour passed, Lythas groaned in frustration and got out of bed. It was no use. Between the discomfort of his pregnancy and the noise from Lyre’s bedroom, he was never going to get to sleep. He took his robe off of the bedpost and shrugged into the garment, and then he padded out of the bedroom and started making his way down the hall, towards the stairs. The last door before the staircase was open, and Lythas looked into the bedroom and saw Tsabrak lying on the bed within.

Lythallendar tiptoed into the bedroom and gazed down at his mate’s sleeping features, noting that the bruises and cuts on the handsome sire’s face were already fading. Impulsively, Lythas reached down and caressed Tsabrak’s shoulder. He knew that he probably shouldn’t, but the temptation to lay down beside his mate and snuggle up to him was too great to ignore.

“I can never stay angry with you,” he whispered with a smile. Ah, well…perhaps he would wake up long before Tsabrak, and he could leave before the sire even knew that he had weakened. Lythas crawled into bed beside Tsabrak and pulled the covers over both of them, and then he put his arm around the pirate’s waist and cuddled close to his chest. Even in his deep healing sleep, Tsabrak embraced Lythas and held him close.

* * *

 

Tsabrak stirred and nuzzled Lythallendar’s hair, inhaling his misty scent. His brow furrowed as he remembered the events of last evening, and realized that Lythallendar should not be in his arms. His golden eyes opened and he gazed at his sleeping mate with a bemused smile. “I hope this means that you aren’t angry with me anymore,” he whispered, kissing Lythas’ sensitive lips and squeezing him fondly. Tsabrak chuckled as the baby greeted him with a kick, and the movement within his body woke Lythallendar up. Tsabrak held still as his mate’s emerald green eyes fluttered open and focused on him. “Good morning, beloved.”

Lythas chewed his lip and looked uncomfortable. “I could not sleep,” he whispered, “Lyre and Vurkanan were…making noise, and my back was aching.” He felt foolish, trying to make an excuse for why he was laying in Tsabrak’s arms. The simple truth was that if his mate had been in bed with him in the first place, Lythas probably would never had experienced so much trouble getting to sleep. He wasn’t going to admit that to Tsabrak, though.

“I see. Are you well rested, then?” Tsabrak said, holding back his smile.

Lythallendar could still see the smile in his mate’s eyes, and he huffed, “Oh, look…just because I sought you out during the night does not mean that you are forgiven for your behavior!”

Tsabrak’s mirth faded, and he nodded. “Aye, I understand completely. I don’t have an excuse for frightening you like that, or for getting so rough with Aurora. I was thinking on the spur of the moment, and not taking the time to come up with a better plan.”

Lythas stared at him for a moment, and then his eyes became shadowed, and he sighed. “No, you did the right thing, Tsab. I should not have held such a grudge against you for it. Aurora is very much like her sire, and you understood that she needed to let her frustrations out with physical violence. If we had tried it my way, her rampage would have merely continued. It is I who should apologize for judging you so harshly.”

Tsabrak chuckled, and when Lythas frowned in puzzlement, he said, “I recall a time merely a year ago when you and I were in this very same situation; apologizing for our reactions and trying to out-blame one another.”

Lythallendar’s eyes unfocused as he thought back, and a small smile found its way onto his lips. “Ah, yes. The incident in Valkyrie Falls. Aurora does seem to have a knack for putting us in guilt-ridden situations, does she not?” He sighed and rolled onto his back, bending his left arm so that his head could rest on it.

“I do not know what to do with her, Tsabrak. She is a young woman now, and I can no longer treat her as a child. I cannot send her to bed without supper, nor can I put her in a corner to make her think about how her actions affect others.”

“I think what Aurora needs right now is to stay busy,” suggested Tsabrak. His long fingers stroked his mate’s dark hair soothingly as he rose onto his elbows and stared down at him. “You suggested that she’s most comfortable at sea. Perhaps when things settle down, you could give her full responsibility for making deliveries for the business. People like her are similar to sharks. They suffocate if they aren’t constantly in motion.”

Lythas blinked up at Tsabrak in startlement. “I had not thought of that analogy. You are absolutely right, Tsabrak. Once Nicolas and Valamir’s Bonding ceremony is completed, I shall continue business as usual, and Aurora shall be Captain. Hopefully, the added responsibility will return her self-esteem and give her a sense of peace.”

* * *

 

Aurora came down later in the day, when everyone else was out doing things. Nicolas and Valamir went to pick up Gavin from Charlotte’s house, and Lyre and Vurkanan were at the docks with Tsabrak, helping to oversee the alterations on the Flounder. She gazed around the parlor with regretful blue eyes, wishing that she hadn’t lost her temper so badly. All of the broken glass had already been cleaned up, but she could see by the number of bottles and glasses missing from the liquor shelves that she had done quite a number. “Is anyone here?” She called out as she moved towards the kitchen.

“Aurora?” Came Lythallendar’s reply from the kitchen. His voice sounded slightly strained. She hurried into the kitchen to find him leaning against the stove, holding his swollen belly. Beads of sweat sparkled on his pale skin, and his lips were rounded in a perfect little “O” as he breathed in rapid little pants.

“Oh no…you’re having your baby?” She said, rushing to him immediately and putting her arms around him.

Lythas nodded and gave her a weak smile. “Yes, but there is no need to panic. It will be a while yet before my labor begins in full. This is only the second contraction.”

She looked wildly around, hoping that someone who knew more about such things was still in the house. “They are all out for the time being,” Lythas said gently, reading her thoughts.

“Ah, hells…let’s get you upstairs to the bedroom,” she said swiftly, and she began to guide him out of the kitchen.

Lythas halted and shook his head. “No, no. It helps for me to walk a bit when it first starts. It lessens the pressure and keeps me from becoming lazy while waiting. Here, just walk with me, dear one.”

She frowned at him dubiously, thinking that the last thing that someone who was getting ready to have a baby should be doing was taking a stroll. However, Lythas had birthed two children already, and she vaguely recalled her Sire supporting the Lifebearer and helping him to walk around the house back when Lyre was born. It had apparently been different during her birth, for Lythas was weak and the pregnancy was not an easy one. Aurora bit her lip. It seemed that she had always caused problems for her gentle Father, even before she was born! She finally shrugged and put her arm around his waist. “If you say so,” she muttered.

* * *

 

Tsabrak was at first puzzled when he opened the door to his house and found Lythallendar pacing the loungeroom, with Aurora lending her support. Then he realized what was happening when he saw the strained look on his mate’s face and the way Lythas paused and sucked in a few sharp breaths. The pirate dropped the armful of paperwork he had been carrying, and he hurried to Lythas without further hesitation. “How close are they?” He said as he took Aurora’s place and put his hand over Lythallendar’s stomach.

“Twelve minutes,” Aurora said with a relieved sigh. She had never been so happy to see Tsabrak as she was now. Lythas’ contractions had grown closer together at an astonishing rate, and he explained to her that this was going to be a rather fast delivery. She didn’t know what she would have done if she had to deliver her new brother!

Vurkanan stepped in next, and the grin that he had thrown over his shoulder at Lyre in response to something the young Sire said faded when he realized what was happening. “Ack, everyone is having babies,” he said. He was half-excited and half-afraid. “Is it bad, Lythas?”

Lythallendar held his hand up to indicate that he was momentarily unable to speak. When the contraction passed, his breathing eased and he said, “It is not so bad. It is merely difficult to catch my breath when my muscles contract. My back is aching rather badly, though.”

Lyre quickly picked up the paperwork that Tsabrak had thrown down, and he placed it on the coffee table. “What do you need for us to do, Father?”

Lythas chuckled. “I need for you all to relax and go about your business. This will be finished soon.”

Tsabrak smiled as he gently rubbed the Lifebearer’s abdomen. “Aye, very soon. If someone could boil some water for us and sterilize the knives and needles in my kit, it would be helpful. For now, I think I’d best get Lythallendar into bed. Aurora, could you be a dear and bring up some fresh linens?”

She nodded dumbly, her eyes round as she looked from the Sire to her Father and back again. “It will be alright, lass. I promise you,” Tsabrak said with a kind smile.

“I’ll get Tsabrak’s kit,” Lyre said quickly, and he hurried to the study.

“And I shall start a kettle of water boiling,” Vurkanan said, his wide silver eyes still fixed on Lythas. He shook himself out of it and turned to run to the kitchen, but he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and his foot caught on the leg of one of the high-backed chairs. With a most un-Vurkanan-like lack of grace, the sorcerer fell flat on his stomach and the breath ejected from his lungs with a startled cry.

Lythas laughed softly, his discomfort forgotten in Vurkanan’s unusual display of clumsiness. Lyre heard his lover fall, and he turned to see the sorcerer picking himself up off of the floor. “Are you alright?” he said as he rushed to Vurkanan’s side.

Vurkanan was blushing furiously, completely humbled by his lack of self-control and utter awkwardness. “Yes, I’m fine. My ego is a bit bruised, though.”

Lythallendar clamped his hand over his mouth to hide the amused smile on his lips. With a grin, Tsabrak murmured, “Come, little one. Let’s get you upstairs, so that I can make you more comfortable.” Lythas didn’t resist as his mate guided him towards the staircase.

* * *

 

When Valamir and Nicolas returned home, Lythallendar’s labor had come full force. The Elder promptly went upstairs to be there for the younger lifebearer, as Lythas was for him when Gavin came. Nicolas sat in the parlor with the others and fed Gavin while they waited.

“You okay, Vurk?” questioned Aurora. The sorcerer couldn’t seem to sit still. He was full of nervous energy, and he couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to sit beside Lyre or pace in circles around the room. He reminded Aurora of a high-strung cat.

“Me? Oh, I am fine,” answered Vurkanan. Then he considered his words and shook his head. “Well, perhaps ‘fine’ isn’t the best adjective for what I am feeling. I am going to be an Uncle for the first time. I suppose I am excited about it, yet I am nervous, too. What will my nephew think of me?”

At that, Nicolas laughed out loud. “Now you worry about such things? It’s going to be some time before the child is old enough to question your personality, Vurkanan. It isn’t as though he’s going to immediately stand up and demand to know why you dress the way you do.”

Vurkanan scowled at the Human, and Lyre muttered, “Nick, you aren’t helping,” before standing up to put his arm around his agitated lover. “I’m sure he’ll be fascinated with you,” the young sire said to Vurkanan, “You’re a unique individual.”

“Aye. Get off his back, Nick,” Aurora said in defense of the sorcerer.

Realizing how rude and unkind his words had been, Nicolas shifted his adopted son and nodded elegantly to Vurkanan. “I apologize. I assumed too much, and should not have insulted you thusly.”

Vurkanan tossed his shiny hair out of his eyes and heaved a sigh. “Bah, you were right. What kind of example can I set, if my nephew is a lifebearer? Who I am works fine for me, but I wouldn’t want my sibling’s offspring to behave the way I do.”

Aurora’s eyebrows rose. “What are you saying? Are you thinking of changing your wicked ways?” Her grin faded at the serious look in Vurkanan’s pale eyes. “Oh come now, Vurk! Individuality is a blessing, not a curse!”

“I agree,” he responded, “but even I can admit that I sometimes take it too far. I don’t always do it on purpose, but I think that I should perhaps tone down my methods. At least where little ones are concerned. I don’t wish to see an impressionable lifebearer getting himself into trouble because of my poor example. Nor do I wish to see a young sire growing up with the impression that I am the sort they should be looking for in a lover.”

Lyre turned worried green eyes on the upset sorcerer, disliking the tone of his voice. He began to realize something that he never had before. Vurkanan’s loud personality and exotic way of dressing was not merely the result of an excessive personality, as he had always thought. Part of it was an act, to hide a low self-esteem and fears that the sorcerer did not want the world to know about. Lyre swallowed and hugged his lover, feeling an ache in his chest. Would he ever truly know Vurkanan? “Don’t hide yourself from him, or us,” he whispered in the lifebearer’s ear. “He’ll love you for who you are, not what clothes you wear.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


End file.
